


Caged Heat

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, FBI agents, Happy Ending, I mean really, M/M, Nasty Dean, Needy Dean, On a hunt, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sam Winchester, Prison, Prison Sex, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Smut, The Devil not really, They are all pervs, Top Sam, it's wincest, with sweet kinky sex at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, Sam and Dean are on a hunt, everything's going smoothly.<br/>Okay, maybe not everything. Sam is nervous and Dean is kind of a germ freak.<br/>But then something happens, something worse than germs, and the hunters are taken to prison.</p><p>Welcome to prison life, boys! Everything'll be fine, as long as you don't drop the soap...or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Kind of J2

**Author's Note:**

> A new chapter every Saturday!  
> Also, all mistakes are mine and of course, I don't own these gorgeous characters.

The engine roared loudly over the storm outside, rain falling on the car and the road like water fell from the shower head. Sam was trying his best to get some sleep, knowing that when they eventually reached their destination, they’d have to get to work as fast as possible. People were disappearing in a small town in Michigan, and there have already been eight missing persons’ reports over a week. Whatever was doing that kidnapping, possibly murdering, was working fast. Sam and Dean plan to stop it though, but for that to happen, and in order to save as many people from what’s coming for them, sleep was inevitable.

Still, Sam has been squirming in his seat for the past three hours, and no matter what kind of position he tried, not like there were many in the passenger seat of a car, he couldn’t fall asleep. Which was not only annoying, but somehow tiring, and the fact that he was hurting from the first trial didn’t help. So he yawned, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, then tried to stretch his back as much as he could in the too small car for his big body, before turning to Dean.

“Hey, so, I still don’t get it. I mean, I understand that the police are usually blind when it comes to monsters, or supernatural related crimes, but this is just too odd. How come they’re pretending that it’s a normal case?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but he just needed to talk. Anything would do and he even thought about asking his brother how far they were from a motel, but he already asked an hour ago, and he didn’t want to seem like a kid. Not in front of his pain in the ass big brother.

“You know why,” came Dean’s grumpy voice, followed by a sigh. “These people aren’t used to this amount of people missing, so if some of them start blabbing about seeing the dead, they aren’t going to pay much attention. Probably just the stress, that’s what they’d say,” he nodded as an emphasis, his eyes still on the road as he stared straight ahead, frowning just slightly, as if he was concentrating on something very important painted on the asphalt.

Dean has been like that the whole way from Indiana, like someone stuck a rod up his ass and forced him to drive seven hours straight without stopping. They did stop, of course, however it was only once when they got some food and relieved themselves. Sam knew why his brother was like that, too. The thought of more people dying while they take a little rest, someone getting torn to shreds while they are eating peacefully is something that drives a man on. But at the same time, Dean wouldn’t be of much use in his grumpy, sleep deprived state, so Sam decided to give negotiating with his brother a shot.

“Yeah, right. Anyway, Dean, I think that we should really stop,” Sam started, seeing how his brother’s frown deepened. “Listen, I don’t know how far we’re from the town, but we’ve been on the road for hours now, and you know that we need sleep.”

“Well, if you want to sleep then just go ahead. I know you need it. I’ll wake you up when we’re there,” Dean said without batting an eye, still staring at the road.

“Dean, I’m thinking that _you_ should get some sleep. Me too, but I’m not the one driving for, what, eight hours straight? Come on, you need to rest,” he pushed on, using his voice that usually only angered Dean even more, but also worked. And thankfully, this time wasn’t any different. His big brother rubbed his face, blinking rapidly as he visibly relaxed his grip on the wheel, shoulders slouching a little.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Just wait a little, will you? We’re like an hour from town, I swear, and when we’ll get there, I’m gonna sack out, ‘kay?” Dean glanced at his little brother from the corner of his eyes, Sam watching him intently for a moment before nodding and leaning back in his seat.

“Yeah, okay.”

They drove for half an hour before finally finding a place to crash. This particular motel wasn’t any better than the last ones, still had dubious stains on the walls and mattress, and even on the ceiling. But it had two beds, hot water and a roof over their head so it was better than nothing. Dean gave him a worn out look as he told Sam to get their stuff out of the car, then dropped on the bed with a groan and was practically out the second his head hit the pillow. Sam was also stone tired, but managed to get their duffels and other stuff out of the car before locking the door and joining his brother in a probably quick sleep.

*

Next morning, Sam was woken by the sound of running water. Shower. His eyes fluttered open, looking around the room before slowly sitting up on the bed, feeling a bit groggy. Looking at his brother’s empty bed, his brain started working. Dean must be showering, which was something Sam needed too, knowing how he must smell. He got up and knocked on the bathroom door, asking, “How long?”

“Gimme five,” came a slightly muffled voice. Sam debated what to do, if he should go and get them some breakfast before or after taking a shower, but then decided on the latter. He quickly made their bed and took out the printed copies of the newspaper, fixing them neatly on the wall.

It was time to hunt.

*

After they were both clean and well nourished, the hunters sat in the car, outside the police station. Wearing suits and ties, ready for the job.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Dean said, getting out of the car, Sam following him as they walked into the station. They soon found the man they were looking for, a guy called Gordon or something, though he looked nothing like the psycho hunter they knew from all those years back. This fella was short and pudgy, white and a bit pale from possible overwork, the few strands of hair on his head sticking in many directions. He nodded at them, beckoning the ‘agents’ into his office, which was full of papers and whatnots, the far wall having many boxes of food stacked up on each other.

“Agents,” the corporal cleared his throat, glancing from Sam to Dean. “Young and Evans, right? I’m Corporal Bailey, and honestly, I feel relieved to know the FBI is here.”

“We’ll do anything in our power to help, Corporal. Now, would you mind explaining the situation in further detail?” Dean, or as the policeman knew, Agent Evans, asked as he skimmed through the papers, passing them to Sam instead who read them carefully.

“Well agents, it all started out with the disappearance of the family restaurant owner, Simmons. Then seven more people just straight up vanished, and the town is going crazy, seeing ghosts and even some of the kidnapped people.”

“Kidnapped? So you’re sure that they are still alive?” Sam cut the man off, glancing up from the papers. Corporal Bailey sighed, looking from left to right before leaning closer and shaking his head.

“Honestly boys, I’m pretty sure that they’re all dead. People don’t just disappear like that, without a trace, without ransom demands or anything. If you ask me, there’s only a slim chance that those poor souls are still alive an’ kicking, but we need to reassure the townsfolk, if you know what I mean.”

“To avoid panic, yeah.” Dean nodded, then Sam motioned towards a different paper on the table, nearly completely hidden beneath all the other ones. “What’s that one?” he asked, feeling Dean’s eyes on him, but he was pretty sure that he found the jackpot.

The corporal raised an eyebrow and pulled the file that the paper belonged to, handing it to the hunter. “This? This is the murders of Nancy and Andrew Jacobs.”

“The ghosts your people saw,” Dean frowned, and from the glint in his eyes, Sam knew that his brother caught up with what he was thinking.

“Yes,” Corporal Bailey leaned against the table, running his meaty fingers through whatever was left of his hair. “Those two were murdered a few days before the disappearances began. We held a funeral, most of the townsfolk came because these two were respected and good people, also a sweet wife and husband. Then some people start making frantic phone calls that they saw either Nancy or Andrew, totally freaking out over the phone, and some even came down the station. Oh, and the best part is that one man even suspects them. For the disappearances.”

That caught both of their attention, and they exchanged a look before Dean asked the man, “What exactly do you mean, he suspects them?”

“Like, he suspects them. That they were the ones taking all those poor people. See, he lives next to one of the missing person, and said he saw Nancy knock at the guy’s door. Went inside but never left,” the corporal rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Drunk bastard, trying to spread ghost stories.”

“But he wasn’t the only one who saw them, right?”

“Yeah, aside from Jonny, many other people ‘caught glimpses’ at the grocery store and the park, but never saw their face. I swear this town is going crazy. We’re a small, quiet town, not used to this, so I hope that you agents can take care of this for us, as fast as possible,” he said, before excusing himself and, after giving the agents all the files and papers they asked for, he politely kicked them out of his office.

Sam and Dean walked back to the car, silently, then when they got in, Sam opened the files and looked at his brother. “So I’m thinking…shifter?”

“That, or-“ Dean paused, pulling a picture out of the file and showing it to Sam. “Ghoul.”

Sam pulled a face as he took the picture from his brother. It was a police shot of two people, their body, or whatever remained of it, mutilated. There were bloody gashes and gaping holes in their stomach and neck, the woman’s arms gone while the man was missing his…ass. Well, that was weird. It looked like something ate from them, and it wasn’t nice and clean about it, either. He gave the picture back to Dean and tried to snatch the rest of the files from him, but his brother slapped his hand away, glaring at him like a kid whose candy was about to get stolen. “Hey, you got your own. This is mine,” he barked, resuming looking through the files while watching his little brother from the corner of his eyes.

Sam raised his eyebrows, staring at Dean for a moment before shaking his head and going back to his own files, the ones about the disappearances. After a few minutes of silence, he finally looked back at Dean and asked, “So, where do we start, thou who has the important papers?”

Dean grinned at him, closing the file. “Well, I’d say we go talk to the town drunk, Jonny.”

*

A short drive, an exchange of badges and a few drunken suspicious looks later, Sam and Dean were sitting on a couch that looked worse that their motel room, talking to Jonny, whose real name was John Johnson. Dean was visibly trying not to laugh when he introduced himself, and Sam managed to hide his amusement behind a thin lipped smile.

“So, you said you’re cops?” Jonny asked, taking a swig from the bottle of beer, which seemed like the only decoration this room had. Bottles of different kind of alcohol, but mostly beer, were scattered all around the room, on the table, and Sam was pretty sure that there was one under the couch cushion where he was sitting.

Dean nodded, trying not to look irritated as he scooted closer to Sam in order to escape the way too green chewing gum stuck to the couch. “Yes, and we have some questions. Please tell us what you saw that day when-“

“Ghost!” the drunk cut him off, looking at them with comically wide eyes and making some odd hand motions with the bottle still in his hand. “It was a ghost, of none other than the chick, Nancy. I saw it! I’m sure of it!”

“We believe you, Jonny, just tell us exactly what happened. Every detail is important,” Sam said, urging the man to hurry up because he didn’t want to stay here any longer than his brother, who was squirming uncomfortably next to him and brushing their knees together more often than necessary.

“Yes, good. I told them I wasn’t insane, but nobody listens to a drunkard,” the man shook his head, his sweaty and greasy hair that hung in small chunks on his head swinging from side to side and just ew. “I was about to go outside, take out the trash when I saw her from my window. There she was, Nancy Jacobs, dead Nancy, standing on the porch and knocking on my neighbor’s door. But she didn’t look dead! She looked just fine, like, you know, she wasn’t dead! And I watch, as the guy, called Shane or Shaun or whatever opens the door and talks to her! He seemed just as surprised as me, but after a long talk, he let her inside. And then she never came out, never left and the next day the guy goes missing! I’m telling you, the woman was a ghost, and I bet that she took the guy when she entered his house.”

They frowned in unison, and Sam nodded slowly, glancing at the window. “Which house was it that the man was taken from?” he asked, standing up and discreetly dusting his rear off. He wasn’t that big of a germ freak, but seeing how even Dean looked extremely uncomfortable, they were both going to burn these suits or at least wash them with bleach.

Jonny sprung to his feet, swaying a little as he stood, then walked to the small window by the far end of the room, pointing at a bluish house. “That one.”

“Thank you, Jonny. We, uh, appreciate your cooperation,” Sam said, fishing a business card out from his pocket and gave it to the man. “Call us, if anything unusual happens.”

“Will do, misters,” he said, grinning and showing of his slightly rotten teeth as they walked out of the house.

The moment they were far away and out of earshot, Dean shuddered and pulled a face as he looked down at himself. “Dude, I don’t wanna sit in my car like this! The…blerch is going to rub off onto the seats.”

“I know,” Sam agreed, sighing as he opened the door. “We’ll bleach the seats later. And our suits. And possibly our bodies. But for now, I think we’re gonna have to wait with that.”

“So, what now? We come back at night and sweep the place?” Dean asked, reluctantly sitting behind the wheel, looking stiff and uncomfortable as hell.

“Yeah, sounds good. And while we wait, I think we should take a look at the bodies.”

“You mean the buried bodies?”

“Yeah.”

Dean sighed, letting his head fall on the wheel. “I don’t wanna dig up a grave, I’ve had my share of disgusting today,” he complained.

“Oh, stop whining,” Sam grinned, letting out a small laugh when he saw the murderous look in his brother’s eyes as he started the engine.

“We better find the ghoul, or ghouls that are doing this quick, so that I can take my rage out on them. Oh yeah,” he mumbled, and skillfully ignored his little brother’s comment, something about the incredible Hulk.

*

They decided to split up instead, as digging up a grave in broad daylight might be a bit unsettling. And very fucking stupid. So, logically, Sam took the graveyard and Dean the neighbor.

Sam sighed, putting the shovel in his duffel, before he shouldered the bag and walked out of the motel room, back to the car. “I don’t wanna dig up a grave alone.”

“Oh, who’s bitching now?” Dean mocked, grinning from ear to ear as Sam glared at him, giving his brother the bitch face.

“Dude, I’m not. You were bitching about digging up a grave in general, but I’m complaining about digging up a grave _alone_. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, sure. Bitch,” he chuckled, his grin only widening when Sam punched his arm when he got into the car.

“Jerk,” he mumbled and looked out the window.

*

Sam hated his brother.

Seriously.

Digging up a grave together was hard enough, and now he had to dig up two, all alone.

Yep, he hated Dean.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he nearly tripped and fell into the hole. He already dug up one of the bodies, the woman, judging from the remains of her body. And she wasn’t going anywhere, so the possibility of her being a zombie was quickly eliminated. She was pretty dead. He performed a quick autopsy on her, but after a few days of rotting, he felt like even though he was wearing gloves, the putrid smell was going to etch itself into his skin. Shuddering, he climbed back into the smaller hole that he only just started, his brain getting back to work.

The woman’s body was clearly eaten from. He found slight, but visible teeth marks at some of the wounds, and they didn’t look like fang, just normal teeth marks. The force used to break her bones and to rip out the flesh was more than human, though, so it couldn’t be just a sick freak. And by the way how most of her organs were missing, possibly eaten, and she looked way too pale, even for a corpse, possibly drained, the thing was hungry.

So, adding all that up with the fact that she has been seen with one of the missing person, meant that Dean was right. This must have been the work of a ghoul, or maybe more. Though Sam really doubted that there were more than one, since if there were, there would have been nothing left of her body. But then again, maybe that’s why there are so many disappearances. Because there’s no body left to find.

As his shovel hit the top of wooden coffin, Sam heard a noise. He froze, quickly glancing around but he couldn’t see anyone. Listening for more noises, he stood still for a few moments before going back to digging and then, just before he would have opened the coffin, he heard it again. At first, Sam though that it came from inside, but when he quickly opened it and pulled his shovel up in a striking position, he was only greeted by the rotting smell of the corpse and, well, a very dead looking corpse. So the noise wasn’t coming from there.

And then he heard it again.

He tightened his grip on the wooden shaft of the shovel before climbing out of the hole, and listened carefully. Standing very still, Sam scanned the area but still nothing. When he heard the sound again, he managed to somehow locate it, and slowly walked towards it. It seemed to be coming from one of the mausoleums, though he still couldn’t pinpoint its exact location. Getting closer, he finally saw something. There was something behind the tree next to the building, he was sure of it. Sam took a step closer, seeing something move in the shadows, and he tried to breathe as quietly as possible, closing in on the creature, nearly there, and he was ready to strike, when-

He nearly got a heart attack when the cat jumped on his leg and scratched him. Sam did certainly not scream when the animal glued itself to his leg, but he did try to kick it off by swinging his leg back and forth. When that still didn’t work, nor did the surprising amount of profanities that left his mouth, he began trying to peel the cat off with the shovel which, eureka, worked, and he watched the cat hiss and run away with wide eyes. He leaned against the tree and buried his face in his hands, because this did not just happen.

“God,” Sam groaned, glancing at his slightly ripped jeans. He got scared by a cat. He tried not to think how that made him the second most ridiculous hunter in the world who got scared by a cat, with Dean being the first one with screaming like a girl when he saw a cat once, even though he had ghost sickness at that time but that totally didn’t count. Sighing, he shuffled back to the graves and finished examining, then re-burying them, before he whipped out his phone and called Dean.

“What’s up?” he heard his brother’s voice, sounding way too relaxed, the little fucker.

“Done with the graves. I’m pretty sure that we’re dealing with a ghoul. Or more.”

“Told ya. I didn’t find anything demony or witchy or vampiry or…well, you know, anything either. But, I found a sewer in the backyard, that had some blood in it.”

“Sewer? In a backyard? Classy,” Sam smiled, then frowned, his smile growing wider. “Wait, you went down a sewer? What happened to ‘I won’t dig up a body because that’s too disgusting’?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, before Dean spoke again. “Shut up. I had no other choice, I needed to check. But believe me, after this I won’t go anywhere near a case involving spilled guts and germ camps for a few days. Only until I feel clean enough.”

Sam laughed then, softly and quietly but he felt his mood improve. He still hated Dean though. “Okay, well pick me up at the graveyard and we can go back to the station tomorrow.”

“Sure, just wait…uh, twenty minutes.”

“What? Where are you?”

“Diner?”

Sam glared at his phone, and he hoped that it would somehow reach his brother. “You’re at a diner? What happened with being ready when I call?”

“Hey! Man needs his pie. I’m picking us up some grub, so you should be thanking me. But hey, maybe if you’re too bored, you could try standing at the side of the road, and count how many people mistake you for a –“

Sam hung up the phone, putting it back in his pocket and walked to a spotlight that was far away from the side of the road.

*

Back at the motel, Dean enjoyed his burger and pie, while Sam munched on some fruit salad, glaring at his brother over the town map he was studying. Dean soon noticed the pair of eyes on him, but all he did was grin, shifting in his chair to get a better look at Sam. “What’s wrong, princess? Don’t like your food? I thought you loved eating healthy,” he said, winking at what some would describe, a very pissed off puppy.

“Seriously, Dean? I would just shut up if I were you. And also keep an eye open while sleeping,” Sam growled, picking at a piece of apple before hesitantly putting it in his mouth and chewing. If he was going to have diarrhea because of this, he was so going to kick Dean’s ass to the moon and back.

“Sowwe Sammy,” his brother snickered, but was smart enough to avoid eye contact with Sam. But he still looked way too proud of himself, so Sam did what every little brother would have done, and scooped up a decent amount of dripping fruits, before stomping over to Dean and grabbed his hair with his free hand. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and he was about to say something, but opening his mouth was a big mistake. Sam yanked his brother’s head back, then shoved the pieces of fruit in his mouth, forcing them down Dean’s throat. The older man squirmed and trashed, but Sam’s grip was firm and unyielding, his palm glued to Dean’s mouth and, even though he loosened his grip on his brother’s hair and moved his hand to his forehead instead, Sam knew that this was his victory. He heard Dean’s muffled scream, his glare hot and dark, but when he realized that Sam wasn’t going to let go until he swallowed, he reluctantly began chewing, eating all of the pieces that were so brutally shoved into his mouth, then just to be a dick, he parted his lips as much as he could, and gave a long lick to Sam’s palm.

The hunter recoiled in disgust, quickly wiping his palm in Dean’s shirt. “Man, gross!” he whined, pulling a face while his brother licked his lips, grinning.

“That’s what you get for forcing me to eat your shitty food.”

“The food _you_ gave me!”

“Never said you couldn’t go out and buy yourself something different.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam huffed, shaking his head at his brother and flopping back in his own chair, then resumed eating the salad, piece by piece.

“That’s it Sammy, real mature,” Dean chuckled, licking his lips again and Sam could have sworn he heard him hum in delight, but that thought quickly left him when he heard Dean mumble, “Bitch.”

Clenching his jaw, Sam threw a bitch face at his brother, having enough of his shit. “I’ve had enough of your shit,” he said, because he felt like he needed to voice his thoughts. Heard it was therapeutic.

Probably sensing the immense danger he was in, Dean quickly sighed and raised his hands. “Fine, fine. What do you say, after we’re done with this case and go back to the bunker, I make you that burger you love so much?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam hesitated, considering the offer and hating how cheap he was, because he nodded and went back to chewing his fruit.

“Good boy.”

*

Next day, after they were done with talking to the Corporal again, they decided to check the graveyard. Last night, Sam found out from reading the map that the sewer that was in Jonny’s neighbor’s backyard led to another sewer, that was at the graveyard. This town had a pretty simple sewer system, with only a few manholes, but the two closest ones to each other were those. Backyard and graveyard. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try, and ghouls usually lived in graveyards too.

Of course, having to visit that place meant that Sam was going to have to listen to Dean’s whining. Again.

“I can’t believe that you didn’t notice anything. Are you even a hunter? You should have at least given it a thorough check, or something,” Dean said for like the hundredth time as they walked to the car.

“I told you, I was a little too busy digging up rotting corpses. Had my dose of disgusting for a day. And there was nothing suspicious going on, and I also thought that we’d look at the place later,” which was true and not. Sam did guess that they would go and check the place out together, to make sure that they didn’t miss anything, but he did hear weird noises. Some of the sounds that he noticed that night weren’t exactly mewling, cat like sounds, but more like…wails, or cries. Though he was so shocked by that damned cat that he forgot about it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Dean about that whole thing. He’d rather lie than give another reason for his brother to be a compete dick.

“Yeah, well you could have saved us both the trouble, by checking it- oh look, it’s Jonny John Johnson,” Dean smirked, nodding towards a figure at the far end of the street. The man turned around, and it really was him, Sam immediately recognized him and his greasy hair.

“Hey, cops!” Jonny waved at them, and Sam was pretty sure that he could see the dark patches on his teeth even from there. He sighed, and waved back, elbowing Dean to do the same.

“You think he’s gonna come over here?” Dean asked, looking at Sam with a worried and maybe even scared expression on his face.

“I’m pretty sure that yeah,” Sam nodded, watching Jonny from the corner of his eyes as he closed in on them. “Let’s hope he’s not the hugging type.”

Jonny's smile widened as he got closer to the hunters, and he looked like he wasn't going to stop waving, like, ever. “Yo, didn’t think we’d run into each oth-“ the man couldn’t finish his sentence as he disappeared. Sam and Dean just stood there for a moment, eyes wide in shock before they ran to the place where they saw Jonny, immediately looking for what the fuck took him.

“Sam!” Dean motioned at the bushes in front of a fenced house, and they quickly climbed the tall fence, running to a smaller hole in the garden. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was another sewer right there, the manhole open and bloody. Jonny must have been grabbed by the ghoul and dragged down the hole, straight to… “Dean, we’ve got to get to the graveyard, now!” Sam urged, his brother nodding as they ran back to the fence.

That was when they heard the scream.


	2. When The Cat Catches The Mouse

It was more like a yell, really. Angry, shocked and panicked yell, which sounded a lot like screaming. And it was directed right at them.

“Burglars! Thieves! Get out of my property!” yelled a very angry looking woman, holding a wooden spoon in her hand, which looked surprisingly menacing.

“We’re about to do just that,” Dean just had to be smart, as he smiled at the woman, but quickly thought better of it when he was hit by a slipper, and started climbing the fence. Sam was already at the top, and as he jumped down to the other side of the fence, he found himself face to face with a police officer.

Perfect.

“Hey, you!” the officer shouted, reaching out to grab Sam’s arm, but he backed away, then turned on his heel and ran. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Dean kick the policeman in the face before taking off running after him. They dashed to the car and quickly got inside, Dean pulling out of the driveway as fast as he could before swerving the car and going back to the motel.

“Dean,” Sam said, looking behind and out of the window to make sure no pissed off policemen were chasing after them. “We need to get to the graveyard, now.”

“With the cops on our asses?” he asked incredulously, driving past a red light but not giving a rat’s ass at the moment.

“Yes! And anyway, it was just one guy, I’m pretty sure that we have enough time before he calls his buddies.”

“Okay, fine,” he growled, turning the car around and going to the other direction, towards the graveyard. It didn’t take them long, with Dean’s mad driving, before they got to their destination, and they got out of the car as soon as he parked it. Sam took out a machete, and handed a smaller scythe over to Dean, who nodded with appreciation. “So, where’s the opening to the sewer?” Dean asked, following Sam, who tried to recall the layouts of the map.

“Uh, I think it should be over…there,” he said, pointing at the same goddamn mausoleum from where he heard the strange noise the night before. He pushed down the guilt and shame that wanted to let itself be known and walked to the mausoleum, signaling to Dean to take the other corner. Separating, Dean went to the left side while Sam took the right one, looking for an entrance or a hole, something that seemed out of the ordinary, but found nothing. He round the corner and waited for Dean, but when his brother didn’t show up after a few moments, he started to get worried and walked to the other side of the mausoleum. “Dean?” Sam called out, but his brother was nowhere. He quickly looked around for something, a piece of clothing stuck on a branch, a drop of blood or…

Finally, he found a small gap at the wall of the building, just big enough for a human to fit in. He flashed light into the hole, and it didn’t seem too deep. Sam took the flashlight between his teeth and somehow managed to squeeze down the hole, and thank god he didn’t have claustrophobia, because he could barely fit. Coughing as dirt entered his lungs, Sam slowly made his way down the hole, then started crawling as the hole curled, and became horizontal. He really should have dived in head first, because crawling in the awkward position he was in, legs first and elbows desperately trying to push himself forwards, really didn’t help. After what seemed like minutes, he felt his legs dangle, and he finally reached a bigger space, where even he could fit. The hole widened, now looking like a room high enough for Sam to stand up, but was also covered in spider webs and dust that successfully got stuck in his hair. He dusted at it frantically, trying not to look like a total girl while doing so, when he noticed a squirming figure on the floor at the end of the room. He used his flashlight, and a small sigh of relief left him the second he noticed that it was Dean. His head seemed to be bleeding a little, but he was conscious and angry, so that meant that he was fine.

“Aw shit, Sammy,” Dean groaned, raising his hand when Sam flashed the light in his eyes. “What took you so long?”

“Oh, sorry that I couldn’t save your ass faster, your majesty,” Sam scoffed, landing a hand to his brother and helping him up.

“Bitch, my ass is awesome. It’s a priority,” he grinned and wiggled his ass on purpose as he looked around the place, picking up his own flashlight.

And just for a second, Sam agreed with his brother. It was pretty dark, but Dean did seem to have a nice, round ass.

And where the fuck did that come from?

Shaking his head, Sam followed his brother’s example and started looking and searching through the room, soon finding a pretty big rock that seemed out of place, unless the ghoul was using it as a really uncomfortable chair. “Dean, check this out,” he said, flashing the light at the rock and nudging it with his foot. They got closer and, after exchanging knowing glances, both crouched down and rolled the rock out of the way.

What first hit them was the smell. Rotting meat and decomposing corpses, the smell of decay was so strong that they both had to back away, coughing and pulling faces as it hit them. “Oh, fuck, man. I think we hit the jackpot. We found this thing’s pantry…and garbage.”

Sam nodded, and as he flashed his light into the hole, he saw many flies and chunks of people lying in there, which was more than enough evidence for him. “Alright, so we’ve got the victims. All dead. But where did the ghoul go?”

“Hunters are sometimes so stupid. But stupid meat is kind of delicious,” they heard a voice behind them, making them spin around on their heel and finding Jonny grinning right at them. “Just like this guy. He was tasty.”

“Poor bastard,” Dean mumbled, reaching for his scythe which wasn’t where it was supposed to be, judging by the surprised expression on his brother’s face.

“Looking for this, Dean?” the ghoul wearing Jonny raised the scythe, turning it in the light of the flashlight and enjoying how it reflected on the clean blade. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You see, I’m not as stupid as real Jonny, and took your weapon.”

“But not all of them,” he growled, drawing out his knife. Sam smirked, raising the machete.

“And don’t forget about this. It’s two against one, buddy. You’re outnumbered,” Sam said, enjoying the way the ghoul scowled, taking a step back.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Hunt me, hunters,” Jonny laughed, lunging at Dean with the scythe in his hand. And as Dean punched the ghoul in the guts, resulting in the thing cutting the hunter’s arm and making him drop the flashlight, the room was plunged into half-darkness, which was soon followed by total darkness when the thing somehow managed to kick Sam’s flashlight out of his hands, too. They slashed and stabbed at nothing, more often missing than not. Sam finally found his flashlight on the floor, but received a brutal kick in the stomach before he could have picked it up. Then he felt something pierce his flesh and-

Well, that hurt.

The ghoul sank the scythe in his hand, the blade nearly going all the way through and out from his palm. Sam screamed, hopefully not like a total girl, and yanked his hand back, quickly picking up the flashlight and shouted, “Hold him still!”

And Dean would have done just that, if the damned thing wouldn’t have been so fucking fast. It crouched and the next moment it was gone, but apparently it only went behind Sam and slapped the flashlight out of his hand. For fuck’s sake, what’s with ghouls and flashlights? He lashed out with the machete, but again struck nothing. And then he heard Dean scream, and Sam blocked out all of his physical pain, picked up the flashlight and grabbed those greasy chunks of hair, before cutting the growling head off with a swift motion. He quickly threw the severed head as far away as he could, wiping his hand on his pants. After deciding that he would have to burn these pants too, he flashed the light on Dean who was holding his stomach, his face pulled into an incomprehensible expression, making Sam worry right away.

“Dean? Shit, you alright?” he asked, rushing to his brother, who was shuddering and shaking and-

“Sammy! Bleach, bleach now! His hair got in my _mouth!”_ he wailed, looking like he was about to throw up and tightening his grip on his stomach, as if that would stop him from emptying his lunch on the floor. Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead as he felt a headache, though he quickly forgot all about that when a shooting pain drew his attention.

“Fuck,” he cursed, frowning at his blood covered hand and, oh god, was that a chunk of meat? “Okay, we need to burn these bodies, but that can wait until tomorrow because we have to get out of here right now, and clean my wounds. Our wounds, or I bet we’re gonna get something nasty.”

“I completely agree,” Dean nodded vigorously, then froze, looking like someone who saw a ghost, pun intended. He raised a shaky hand to his mouth and stuck his tongue out, clawing at it until he pulled his hand away and looked at Sam with wide eyes. “There was…a hair in my mouth. On my tongue, for fuck’s sake! I’m gonna be sick,” he groaned, doubling over and seriously looking like he was going to throw up. Sam let out a small laugh but also felt sorry for his brother, so he used his non-bleeding hand to pat his back and gently squeeze his shoulder.

“C’mon man, the faster we get out of here, the faster you can Clorox your mouth,” he said, relieved to see his brother nod and reluctantly straightening up, going to the hole and climbing out. Sam took a look around the room, picked Dean’s scythe up and soon, followed his brother out into the fresh, germ and decay free, air.

Climbing up and out, wasn’t easier than down and in. At least this time, he was going face first. Finally emerging from the hole, thoughts about clean water and fairly clean bed circled his mind, already imagining how good it was going to feel when he took a shower. Possibly two. Standing up and dusting himself off, Sam couldn’t help but look at his brother who was standing oddly still. “Dean, did you find another hair in your mouth, or what?” he asked, stepping closer to him before he understood the reason why Dean stood still and, apparently had his hands up in the air.

Sam was honestly starting to believe that God hated them with a passion.

“Freeze!” came the booming voice of an officer, who had his gun out and ready, and it wasn’t like they could have explained the situation by showing them their badges because, one, they just crawled out of a goddamn mausoleum, probably smelling like rotten meat and, two, because they were covered in blood. Perfect. “Hands in the air where I can see them!” came another shout, this one probably directed at Sam, who was still a little out of it, and you know, he also had a machete in one hand and a scythe in another, so he quickly obeyed and raised his hands. “Drop your weapons!”

Okay, now that was starting to get ridiculous. He should have asked for that first. Was this guy really a cop?

And now look who’s talking.

Sam sighed, stopping the inner conversation because come on, and slowly lowered his weapons before raising his hands back up and, saving the work for the rookie cop, put his hands behind his head, on his nape. Dean glanced at him and followed his example, but it seemed that even that wasn’t enough for the cop, because the next second they heard him shout, “On your knees!”

Seriously?

*

“This sucks,” Sam mumbled to himself as he sat in the chair, in an interrogation room. The cop brought them in the station and when many other cops got the impression that they were criminals caught red handed, unfortunately quite literally, they immediately separated him from Dean. Which wasn’t really that big of a deal, because they knew what to say in situations like this, but Sam still wanted someone to talk to, that someone being Dean. If they were screwed, they should be screwed together.

He has been sitting alone, probably ‘stewing in his own juice’ for nearly half an hour now, before finally the door swung open, and Corporal Bailey entered.

“So, agent Young, if that’s your real name…” he started, dropping a thin file on the metal table, before taking a seat in front of Sam, who really didn’t want to be here.

They were caught by the police quite a few times, and it has never been a fun experience. He remembered the time when Henriksen was on their ass, trying to catch them, then when those Leviathans pretended to be them and murdered dozens of people. Yeah, it really wasn’t a good memory, being chased by the law. And being caught, well, that was even worse. Like now.

The Corporal opened the file, pulling out a few pictures and sliding them over to Sam, who remained expressionless, even when he saw what were on the pictures. “We found these bodies under the mausoleum you broke into. It was pretty smart, actually. Nobody would have thought about it. But you and your partner made a big mistake, getting caught by that officer,” Corporal Bailey said, glaring daggers at the hunter.

“This is ridiculous,” Sam started, but was immediately cut off by the man.

“Ridiculous? Pretending to be FBI Agents and thinking that you’d easily get away with it, now that’s what is ridiculous. Did you _really_ think that we wouldn’t find out? True, you’ve had me fooled in the beginning, but now it all adds up. We checked your badges, and they were fake. Fake names, fake IDs, fake everything!” he growled, slamming his hands on the table and leaning forward, surely thinking that he was intimidating, but Sam just leaned back in order to get a safe distance away from the red faced man and his spit. “I bet that poor Jonny found out, didn’t he? That’s why you had to kill him the next day. Or maybe he saw you, when you took his neighbor from his house.”

Sam sighed, glaring right back at the man. “Listen, sir, we have nothing to do with this. I already told you, me and my…partner, we were just checking that place out and-“

“Don’t lie to me, you filthy scoundrel! You pose yourselves as agents and then we find you with blood on your hands, bearing weapons and leaving a damned hole full of dead bodies behind, and you’re trying to tell me that you had nothing to do with it? Was it perhaps a setup? Or maybe you have personality disorder? Because believe me, I’ve heard many psychos trying to justify their shit, but it’s always the same. Psychos stay crazy. You can’t cure the crazy, the beast. You and that man, you’re serial killers. Sick, perverted, insane murderers. And don’t you worry, you will pay for what you’ve done to this town,” Corporal Bailey spat, gathering the pictures and stomping out of the room.

The guard that accompanied Bailey glanced at Sam, narrowing his eyes. “Pretending to be from the FBI to get closer to the murders, playing and watching how the law reacts. You really are sick,” he shook his head, before following the Corporal out of the room.

This really sucked. Sam tested the cuffs, but they held his wrists tight. The back of his head hurt from the stick they beat him up with. He wouldn’t go down that easily, but when there were three policemen hitting him with their sticks, even he couldn’t fight his way out of it. He glanced around the room and considered his options. He could try to escape somehow, then find Dean and get the hell out of here, but the opportunity for that seemed way too thin. With what they were suspecting them with, the door to the interrogation room would be guarded and there would be policemen watching them 24/7. Then would come the trial and finally, prison. But no way in hell were they going to prison. They still had a chance to escape here, but not in the prison. The only reason they managed to break out of prison that one time, was because they had inside help. Not this time.

Either way, Sam had to think, hard. They couldn’t go to prison, period. That meant that he had to come up with something and quick, because these people seemed the kind who dealt with problems, dangers threatening their town rather quickly, getting them out of the way as fast as possible. And right now, that danger was Sam and Dean.

*

They were charged with first degree murder, kidnapping, assault, mutilation and cannibalism.

They got 40 years in prison, one located in Manistee Township, Michigan.

In the prisoner transport van, Sam and Dean exchanged nervous glances. This was really, really bad. The men sitting next to them looked like vicious criminals, and soon, they were going to be locked up with many others. Though, they were serial killers too, just instead of humans, they killed monsters. Still, that didn’t mean that prison life was for them.

“Dude,” Dean whispered, trying to scurry as close to Sam as he could and away from the big guy that seemed to stare at his big brother in a very intimidating way. “I don’t wanna go to jail. I mean, look at me! I’m hot!”

Sam rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at his brother. “Dean, I don’t think that you need to worry about your ass. You’re not slim and delicate and stuff. And even if anybody would try, you’d kick their ass, no?”

“But Sam, what if they gang up on me in the shower?” he asked, looking way too scared for a hunter.

“C’mon, man, I’ve got your back, okay? I won’t let them…you know,” Sam sighed, reassuring his brother as much as he could. He was starting to pity him.

“Good, good,” Dean nodded, looking at the other men in the van suspiciously. “Your Sasquatch height might just come in handy.”

“My wha- you know, whatever.”

*

Either prison has changed since the last time they were inside one, or this particular one was different, but one thing was for sure. This prison looked like Hell.

Literally.

When they finally arrived to the prison, they had to wait in the van while the other convicts were processed. Then they got out, and the first thing that hit Sam was how chilly the air was, but then he remembered that it was autumn so that was normal. He guessed that in the van with all those guys breathing the same air, it got a little too hot and he got used to it.

“Hey,” he heard Dean, his brother elbowing him while watching the guards. “You think they’d let us stay together? I really, really don’t want a cellmate that looks like Hannibal Lecter and smells like rotten eggs and sweat.”

“Same here,” he said, trying to stay as close to his brother as he could, somehow feeling like he couldn’t take the prison life without Dean, even though he was a grown man. A grown man, who was a hunter and apparently had a dangerously codependent relationship with his older brother. Perfectly normal.

“Smith brothers!” one of the guards yelled, because they had to call themselves somehow, and Sam and Dean weren’t going to use the Winchester name. Better go with what Frank gave them. They walked over to the guard, and followed him and some other convicts that were next to the man inside. He guided them to a cell, that looked more like a room, with walls instead of bars. They were all seated, at least those that could, since there were already some inmates in the room, this recent group just adding to the growing number of sweaty men in the not big enough room. Dean sighed in annoyance as he leaned against the wall closest to the door and furthest away from the other men, Sam joining his brother, and then they both began scanning the crowd, something they did naturally.

“This place is like a freaking clown show, just look at all these people,” Dean whispered, leaning close to Sam as he pointed out the different kinds of people, and he was right. There really were all sorts of men here. There was a guy with wide eyes and messy hair who kept on babbling to another guy who was obviously not listening, about how he was innocent and the blood on his shirt wasn’t his and that the cops just mistook him for the real killer. Yeah, right. Then in the corner of the room, there was someone who looked like a homeless person, crouching and staring off into the distance.

“Yeah, not creepy at all,” Sam mumbled, hearing Dean’s low chuckle, then looked at the pair his brother was nodding towards. One of them was an old man with too much hair, talking to someone who looked like he was on an acid trip. The older man was counting something on his fingers, while explaining the rules to the younger guy, as if he was a guard or something, while the kid just nodded, but was clearly out of it. He was smiling and looking at something over the old man’s shoulder, but that was probably only because he couldn’t even focus on the guy’s face. And then there was another guy in the middle of the room, tall and thin and pale, who was walking and jumping and twitching, scratching at his bald head. He looked like a rat, and when Sam voiced his thoughts to Dean, his brother had to bite down on his lip to muffle a laugh.

Sam was just about to get used to the smell of vomit and sweat, keeping his lunch in, when he saw a man shuffle to the toilet at the far corner, then sat down and took a huge shit. “Aw, man,” Dean pulled a face, looking away and pulling his shirt up over his nose, and Sam did the same thing when the smell hit him. He was no girl but damn, that was fucking disgusting.

And that wasn’t even the worst thing. His hand was still bleeding, didn’t get bandaged up yet and he was pretty sure that it was going to get infected, at this rate. Just great. These past few days have been full of blood and germs and even though they were hunters and totally used to being dirty, this was too much even for them.

After waiting for an hour, or maybe more, it was their turn. Sam and Dean were called out individually, Sam’s heart sinking when his brother disappeared behind a door, but this, being alone, just meant that he had to be stronger. Stay positive, or something. They were going to come up with a plan, they only had to wait for the right moment.

For now, Sam had to stay calm, and strong.

He went from room to room, checked and checked again. They stripped him, searched him, gave him his prison clothes that were a little too short. He then was given a bundle of blanket, a plastic cup, a plate and some other things, before they took his picture, then sent him to the prison doctor. Sam felt relieved when the doc didn’t ignore his wound and cleaned and patched it up for him, but then felt the uneasiness creep back when he carried a few tests, checkups out on him. Shuddering from the unwanted experience, he had to wait a few more minutes before another guard, a scarier looking one who seemed disappointed that he couldn’t stare Sam down, took him to his cell.

In his new cell, a big, hefty guy was lying on the top bunk, reading some kind of magazine, but when he noticed Sam, he closed and put the thing away, before flashing a gold plated grin at the hunter. “’Sup, fresh meat.”

And it was from that point that things got seriously out of hand.


	3. Prison 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a whole new life, in prison, and Sam and Dean are about to find out why. But at least there are some good news too, amid the bad ones.

The big guy’s name was Leo, and he was a pretty okay guy. At first, Sam thought that he would have to intimidate the man, but it turned out that he was just trying to scare him. Leo was a drug dealer, which didn’t exactly make him into a saint, but at least he wasn’t a serial rapist or something.

“So, what’d you do?” he asked, chewing a piece of…well, whatever it was, Sam didn’t want to know. Leo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall and dangling his legs from the side of the bed, while Sam sat next to him, though he stayed on the far end of the bed, refusing to go closer. At first, he didn’t even want to get on the top bunk with him, but the guy annoyed him until he finally did, now regretting his decision as he felt something weird under the mattress.

He sighed, scratching his head as he shrugged. “Nothing big. Just…killed a few people,” he said, because he didn’t want to be _that guy_ , who went around telling everyone that he was innocent. Those guys usually ended up dead sooner or later.

“Yeah, c’mon man. You look like someone who’s seen some shit. Y’know, my cousin has this friend who has this brother who served in the army. Mofo looks like you. People like you have this, I don’t know, face. Tics, and stuff. Not the crazy kind of tics, but more like the army kind, predatory. You didn’t notice, I’m pretty sure of that, but when you came in the cell you totally scanned the place. Like a soldier looking for a bug or a hidden bomb,” he said, grinning and spitting the thing he was chewing on the floor, before ruffling his blond locks. Leo looked like he was in his late thirties, with brown eyes and short curly blond hair, which looked a bit ridiculous on his square jawed face, with a body that was practically made out of muscles. But at least the guy seemed smaller than Sam, and much dumber, too.

“Well, as I said, I killed a few people. Lost count,” he said, deciding that he’d play the silent, but scary type. He didn’t want to socialize with the inmates, though that wasn’t the only reason for his silence. Mostly, he was just worried about Dean. He really hoped that his brother got a cellmate like Leo, not some kind of twitching pervert. The thought made him clench his fist, and he must have looked like he was about to hulk out or something, because the next moment Leo was all wide eyes and mumbles.

“Uh, hey man, didn’t mean to piss you off. Could you stop looking like someone who’s planning on breaking down that door? I’m sure that’s how people spontaneously combust and shit, glaring like that,” he heard Leo mumble, looking more like a nervous jock than an intimidating drug dealer. Sam took a deep breath and proceeded to calm down, flashing a small, thin lipped smile at the guy.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just got lost in thoughts,” he said, then quickly jumped off his cellmate’s bed and sat down on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop a headache. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to talk to this guy. But it wasn’t like he had any other choice, not right now, aside from waiting it out, waiting until an opportunity presented itself or maybe…

“Yes!” he grinned to himself, ignoring Leo’s curious humming as he leaned back against the wall. He knew what he had to do, how to get out of here. It was so easy, that he completely forgot about it. Now all he needed was to find Dean, then find a secluded place where it was only him and his brother, and they could get the hell out of here. He couldn’t stop the small laugh from escaping his throat, knowing that Leo must have booked him as a psycho, but not giving a shit, because he hasn’t felt so relieved in the past few hours.

He lay down on his bed, trying to get some rest and he must have fallen asleep because the next time he opened his eyes, Leo was trying to shake him awake.

“Hey, man, time for dinner. Pretty sure you might be hungry. Follow me,” he said, beckoning Sam to follow him and the hunter felt glad that his cellmate was so helpful. It wasn’t like he was completely lost here, since he’s been to a prison before and kind of knew how things worked, but this place was new and he wasn’t sure where the mess hall was. And getting lost in a prison was something he’d rather leave out.

He nodded, muttering a low thanks as he got up and walked after Leo. “So, tell me about this place. What do I need to know?” he asked as he glanced around the corridor, trying not to raise too much attention to himself as he looked some of the inmates over. Sam also received a few stares and glares from the particularly tough looking men, though he glared right back before breaking eye contact and focusing his attention on Leo instead. He really wasn’t in the mood for a brawl, not here, not like this.

Leo grinned raising a hand to motion around the corridor filled with cells. “This, buddy, is cell block C. There are four of them and to our left is cell block D and A, and B is to our right,” he said, pausing for a moment before nodding to the back of the hall, his eyes narrowing as he continued. “Behind us is the visiting room, the sally port and armory. You better not get close to that place unless you have a visitor, because the guards love to accuse us convicts of assault. Always saying that one of us wants to break into the armory. Heard that, once, a poor guy got two more years because he ‘broke a correctional officer’s nose while trying to steal a gun’. Well, that’s a big pile of horse shit. The sadist fucker broke his own nose just to make things look more realistic. Krueger is his name, and we call him Freddie behind his back,” he curved his lips before spitting on the ground, turning back to the way they were going before sighing. “Yeah, anyway, you better be on your best damned behavior when that cocksucker shows up, no matter how much shit he gives you.”

Sam sighed internally, rolling his eyes but managing to keep his composure without throwing a fit. He could take the prisoners, even the abusive guards. With the knowledge of a way out, all Sam had to worry about was his big brother. As long as Dean was safe, he could relax on the inside and play the big bad guy on the outside, maybe even become one of these cold blooded murderers for the time being, blend in. “Sure,” he said upon realizing that Leo was waiting for some kind of an answer. “I’ll stay out of his way. Now, what else is there to know?”

Looking satisfied and somewhat proud of himself, probably thinking that he was Sam’s shepherd, Leo flashed a toothy grin at the hunter before pointing at the white door they were walking to. “That’s the mess hall, and behind it’s the kitchen. There are many stairs around the place that lead to the basement, but if you’re lucky, you’ll never have to go down. Believe me, you don’t want to know what’s down there,” Leo visibly shuddered, making Sam wonder just what could be so bad, but before he could have asked, the man was talking again. “Then next to the D block, there’s the library. We have larger hallways right…here,” he said as they finally emerged from the corridor which had cells on both sides, the mess hall only a few feet away now. “We’ve got hallways separating us from the other blocks, but aside from that, there’s nothing between us and the others. Well, if you don’t count the cells. So if you’ve got friends in here, you could easily meet up with ‘em, even if they are in a different block.”

That caught Sam’s attention. He nodded and couldn’t stop the small smile that crossed his face, Leo surely noticing because he was raising an eyebrow at him, and asked, “You’ve got someone you know in here?”

“Yeah, something like that. My brother, actually,” Sam answered, now smiling freely and feeling another weight being lifted from his shoulders. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

“Ah, family. It’s always good, having a friend in here. Your brother, you wanna see him, yes?” Leo asked, and when Sam nodded, it was his turn to smile. “Alright, I bet he’s in the mess hall by now. I’ll let you guys reunite and stuff, then tell you the rest of the shit you need to know to survive around ‘ere,” he said, seeming pretty excited as he walked into the mess hall, with Sam following him behind, thinking that he might have just made a friend.

The hall was huge, and loud as Hell. Quite literally.

It had at least like fifty tables, most of which were filled with prisoners talking, or more like shouting at each other. It was like school, just hundred times worse. As he followed Leo, Sam noticed that there were even small groups. He saw a few men who looked the big and dumb type, then another that could have been called ‘the men with the rape face’. Either way, they all looked like murderers or rapists, thieves that were just itching for a fight. When they got to the end of the room and after a few minutes of waiting and praying that he wasn’t going to go deaf from all the screaming, it was finally his turn to serve himself.

But with what, he wasn’t sure, because that green slime surely didn’t look like food. Probably noticing Sam’s discomfort, Leo let out a small chuckle as he scooped a nice amount of green ooze and dropped it on Sam’s plate. “S’okay, it tastes better than it looks. You’ll get used to the food soon enough,” he said before going back to picking food for himself. In the end, Sam had a tray full of unidentifiable food and a little cup that seemed to contain a suspicious looking pudding. He looked around the hall, but it was impossible to find his brother among all of these bulky people, so for now, he just followed Leo to an empty table and sat down. “You not gonna look for your brother?” came the inevitable question, as the man shoved a mouthful of slime into his mouth.

“Not sure if I can find him like this…” Sam sighed, poking the food with his spoon, then scooped a small amount in it before tasting it, surprised he didn’t choke. It wasn’t even that bad.

“Man, this is like one of your best chance to find him. I think you should at least try,” Leo mumbled with a mouth full of food, thankfully not spitting any on Sam. He knew that the guy was right, and it’s not like he was going to chicken out from all these people, so with a sigh he stood up and started scanning the room. He saw a lot of men, all different but still the same, also noticing some things he’d rather have erased from his brain, for example a tall skinny guy jerking off while two big men sat next to him, as if guarding him. Now, Sam wanted to throw up. Unfortunately, some of the people noticed him staring and glared at him, one particularly pissed of guy throwing a piece of bread at him, which he skillfully dodged. After looking through the crowd a second time, and still not finding Dean, he was starting to become worried.

“Can’t find him. Shit, Leo, where else could inmates be at this hour?” Sam asked, probably looking frantic because his cellmate quickly raised his hands in an attempt to calm him down.

“Easy, man. He might still be in his cell. Or taking a shower. Or I don’t know, talking to some friends, maybe.”

“He’s got no friends here. He’s new,” Sam growled, glancing around the room and he wasn’t going to hyperventilate.

“Oh, you guys came in together?” he asked, and as Sam nodded, Leo frowned. “Well…then maybe he doesn’t know that it’s time for lunch. Maybe his cellmate isn’t as cool as me and didn’t explain shit to him.”

That just made the hunter even more worried, though. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about his brother’s cellmate. What if the guy was a real serial killer and wanted to gut Dean? His brother was strong, could defend himself and throw punches that sent even monsters to the moon and back, but what if some big guys ganged up on him? What if-

“Sammy?” his flow of thought came to an abrupt stop when he heard his big brother’s voice, and as Sam turned his head towards the voice, he saw Dean standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and nervous and if Sam wouldn’t have known better, maybe even a bit scared. Though all of that disappeared the moment they made eye contact, and Dean’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading on his face as he practically ran to their table and pulled his little brother into a too-tight hug.

“Dean,” he said, or more like kind of choked, feeling the air being pressed out of him, but he wrapped his arms around his brother nonetheless. “Good to see you too. Been worrying my ass off, where the hell have you been?”

He felt Dean sigh against his neck, and that shouldn’t have made him shiver, then his brother was pulling back and sitting down on the bench, Sam quickly joining him on it. “Man, it was horrible. These guys here are all sick!”

Sam heard a small cough from the other side of the table then, and when he looked away from his brother, Leo was raising an eyebrow and grinning at the both of them. “Oh really? Who’re you calling sick, buddy?”

Sam smiled, patting his confused brother’s shoulder as he nodded towards the other man. “Dean, this is Leo, my cellmate. He was a drug dealer, been here for three years now, but he’s a…cool guy,” he said, noticing how Leo beamed from the small compliment.

“Hell yeah I’m cool. And just wait till I introduce y’all to my friends. I’m telling you, we’re the most normal bunch in this prison. You’re lucky fellas,” he grinned childishly, before going back to his half-eaten food.

“Really?” Dean whispered, frowning at the man as he turned towards Sam. “You trust this guy?”

“Nope. But he does look like the sanest one around here, and he didn’t start drooling or twitching yet, so…” he shrugged, picking his spoon up but, deciding he wasn’t hungry anymore, plopped it into the goo. “Anyway, what about you? How’s your cellmate?”

“God,” Dean buried his face in his palms, rubbing his temples. “You really are lucky that you got Happy Stoner-“

“I heard that!”

“- over here. My cellmate is a fucking Pokémon.”

Sam waited, for Dean to elaborate or something, but when it was obvious that his brother wasn’t going to continue by himself, he asked, “What do you mean, a Pokémon?”

“I mean,” he started, looking like he just aged ten years in one second. “The guy is freaking Snorlax. He never stopped sleeping ever since I got in the cell, and when he finally did stop, all he did was change position, then went back to sleep! And he snores, too! Then everyone started disappearing, and I had no idea what was going on so I just followed the flock. I’m totally clueless about this place thanks to my ‘helpful’ cellmate,” he complained, shaking his head in disbelief. And while Sam tried not to laugh, he couldn’t suppress the smile that crept into his face. “What? Oh, you think this is funny, Sam?” Dean growled, noticing his brother’s annoying smile.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just glad,” Sam smiled wider, unable to rip his gaze off his brother. “I was worried that you would end up with a cold blooded murderer or something, so finding out that your cellmate’s just a peaceful snoring machine kind of made my day,” he said, and now he couldn’t stop laughing when he saw the pissed off expression on his brother’s face. Seriously, he’s been on edge ever since they got separated, and now he didn’t plan on letting Dean out of his sight, even if that made him an overly protective little brother, switching their roles for the time being with Sam being the one protecting Dean. Or at least that’s what Sam has decided in his mind, since if Dean would realize that his own little brother wanted to protect his ass, in more ways than just one, then he’d never hear the end of it.

“Yeah, so glad that I made you laugh with my misery, really,” Dean grumbled, frowning at his brother’s plate of food. “Hey, what’s that?”

But instead of Sam, Leo answered. “Food, young Skywalker. That’s spinach right there, and there’s some bread, cheese and pudding too. Just like I told your brother here, it looks worse than it tastes. And that’s the only food you’ll get for lunch, so you either eat or starve,” Leo said, playing with the small plastic spoon used to eat the pudding. “Oh and, the guy who’s hibernating? That guy’s Arnold. He’s an okay guy, got busted last year. He was a hacker who mingled with street lights, causing many deaths, then broke into some airplane station and made lotsa planes crash. But aside from that, he’s a harmless bear, so don’t worry, he ain’t gonna strangle you in your sleep.”

“Oh,” Dean blinked, forcing a smile as he looked around the room. “People do that here, huh? Well that’s…good to know.”

“Hey, you heard him, you’re safe,” Sam grinned, nudging his brother’s arm. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you, make sure that you don’t get crushed to death by an overweight marshmallow.”

“Overweight ma- wow, okay. Uh, no thanks, Sammy. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh no, that’s actually a pretty good idea,” Leo said, pointing his spoon at Sam. “If you guys look out for each other, there’s less chance that Diablo catches you.”

“Diablo? You mean the devil? I bet that guy’s some kind of big Spanish drug lord who’s like the boss prisoner,” Dean chuckled, but when he saw Leo’s serious expression, he frowned. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah man, Diablo ain’t no joke. He’s been here longer than most of us and has the highest body count yet. There are a lot of guys here who follow him, and he loves scaring newbies. Or…” he paused, glancing from Sam to Dean, then back to Sam, and narrowed his eyes. “You better stay away from him, kiddo.”

Sam frowned. “Why?” he asked as he saw Dean stealing his tray from the corner of his eyes and poking at the green goo that was, according to Leo, spinach.

“Honestly? You’re fucking tall and can look real scary. You’ve got lots of muscles, too, and don’t seem like a coward. In other words, exactly the kind of guys Diablo just loves to recruit. And, well, recruiting isn’t that nice as it sounds like. Some of the guys in A block found someone in the showers who didn’t want to be recruited. Bloody and in bits. The officers have no idea to this day how they did it, coz we ain’t got no weapons.”

“Shit,” Dean mumbled, exchanging a look with his little brother, who wasn’t as relaxed anymore, before looking back at Leo. “What about me?”

“You’ve got the muscle and that dark, sharp look in your face, but Diablo mostly goes for height. And…uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of, you know. Feminine.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes widened, and Sam was pretty sure that it took all of his brother’s self control not to throw a handful on mystery spinach in the guy’s face. “How the fuck am I _feminine?_ I’m a man!” he growled, Sam having a hard time controlling his laughter, and getting a heated glare from his brother for that.

“Look man, I just… you have these plump lips and long eyelashes that everyone can see from afar, and I bet that it’s even worse from up close. Sam, you know your brother more than I do. You tell him.”

Dean looked at his brother, daring him to say anything, but Sam had to agree with Leo. “Dean,” he cleared his throat, and tried not to hurt his big brother’s manliness as he told him his point of view. “You do have nice lips and eyelashes. And eyes too, now that we’re at it, plus those freckles are pretty adorable, for some people. And…you have a beautiful smile and voice, and when you laugh, a lot of people look your way. Your eyes are really expressive, and it’s not only the color that makes them so gorgeous. And-“ Sam stopped abruptly, realizing that he probably said too much from the way his brother looked at him, wide eyed and blushing.

Wait, blushing?

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, averting his eyes as if that would help him hide his blush that reached even his ears. He stared at the spinach as if it contained the answers to the universe, refusing to speak or look at anyone, looking embarrassed beyond words, though he wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Sam felt his own face heat up, suddenly taken over by nervousness and shame. He really shouldn’t have said all those things, and he didn’t even know why he said them. He never expected the truth to sound so…wrong. For fuck’s sake, it was as if he just confessed to his big brother or something. And he certainly did not confess.

The question was, why did Sam need to convince himself so hard that he, in fact, did not love his brother?

Praising a God that was probably drinking margaritas in Hawaii while not giving a single shit, Sam let out a breath that he didn’t know was holding in when Leo finally broke the awkward silence. “Ooookay guys, point made. Dean, that’s your name, right? Anyway, Dean’s more feminine than you, Sam, so we don’t have to worry about Diablo’s gang finding him, unless it’s for, well, other purposes that I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about right now. So, now that we’ve closed this discussion, want me to tell your brother about the layout as well?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks Leo,” Sam said, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eyes and feeling a bit relieved that his brother’s face didn’t have a deep red color, but went back to a normal shade. Trust the Winchesters to get over things rather quickly.

Leo explained the same things he told Sam to Dean, then added a few details, like where the shower and hospital was, the stairs to the chapel or the barber shop ran by inmates, and explained how to get to the yard. “Then there’s the daily schedule,” he said, leaning forward on the table as if he was sharing state secrets or something. “It’s a pretty tight fit, but we get enough free time, so everybody’s okay with it, more or less. We wake up at six in the morning sharp, then have two hours to get our asses outta bed and eat, then go to work. There’ll be a list of stuff you can do and you can choose, so that’s cool. Then we work until noon, when we have lunch for half an hour before going back to work. At three in the afternoon we ain’t gonna work no more and get to go outside for an hour, in the prison yard. It’s pretty nice out there, I’ll show you guys around. Then we go back to our cells for another hour, then come out for supper, which is now. We still have like…ten minutes until we’ve gotta go and work for an hour, then time for religious and specialized programming, like I dunno, religious stuff, narcotics anonymous and anger management. You guys can join whichever group you want.”

“Anger management would be good for us, eh Sammy?” Dean grinned, elbowing his little brother, who just rolled his eyes, but smiled back nonetheless.

“Yeah, though I think some kind of dipsomaniac group would suit you better,” Sam winked, making Dean scoff.

Leo just watched them, seemingly enjoying their little domestic show, before clearing his throat and drawing the brothers’ attention back to him. “Anyway, after that we’re gonna go back to our cellblock for counting and stuff which, by the way, will happen quite often. Then from nine to eleven, we can do whatever we want, and at eleven it’s lights out. We can still read and do shit in our cells, but only for an hour coz at midnight everyone’s gotta sleep. And yeah, that’s it.”

Sam glanced at his brother, who looked like he really didn’t want to be here, but Sam had to agree, the schedule was tight but not that bad. All that working annoyed him a little, but it kind of just sounded like a summer camp. A smelly summer camp, full of criminals.

“Well, still better than Hell,” Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Sam noticed that his brother actually ate his food, and was at the moment trying to fight his way through the pudding. Glancing at the large clock on the wall at the end of the room, Sam decided that he had just enough time to tell Dean the good news.

“Hey Leo,” he cleared his throat. “Could you give us a minute?”

The man blinked a few times, looking from one brother to the other before nodding, flashing a crooked grin at Sam as he stood up and patting his shoulder. “Sure thing, buddy. But I’m not gonna go too far, just out of earshot. You guys still need me, like it or not,” he said, winking at them before walking away.

“What was that all about?” Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam turned to him, his face all smiles and dimples, and suddenly Dean was smiling too from the sight. “Uh, Sam?”

“Got news for you, big brother,” Sam’s smile widened into a grin, and he nodded towards the ceiling. “I’ve got a way out of here.”


	4. Heaven and Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are just getting worse and worse for the poor hunters, but at least they've got each other. Also, shower scene.

“What do you mean, a way out? We’ve only been in here for a few hours. Not even a day,” Dean looked surprised, but was soon grinning back at his brother. “Damn Sammy, you really are a genius. Though I’ll deny it if you ever quote me.”

Sam laughed, glancing at the clock again, then leaned a bit closer to Dean so that he could whisper. “We just need to find a secluded place, and call our friend to get us the hell out of here. It’s actually a really simple plan, I’m surprised that you didn’t think about it.”

“Call our friend?” Dean asked, about to tell Sam that all of their friends were either dead, missing or unable to break them out of prison when it hit him. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly. Castiel.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think about that! Fuck, that’s right!” Dean laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “All we gotta do is pray for him, ask him to get his feathery little ass here, and he could zap us the hell out of here!”

“Yeah, just… I hope he’ll answer. Since, you know, he’s kind of on the run,” Sam said, knowing that his plan was good but not flawless. Castiel was hiding from Naomi at the moment, so if they’d call for him, it wouldn’t be sure that he’d answer.

Dean understood that too, because his grin was slowly replaced by a frown. “Yeah. Though, serves him right. He lied to us, again.”

“Dean, we’re not going to go there. Not now. Cas is…Cas, and right now, he’s our only hope in getting out of here. So, put all that angry shit aside for the time being, and hope that our friend has his ears on, coz if not, we’re stuck.”

That seemed to pull his brother out of his trip down memory lane, which was probably filled with trust issues, and Dean let out a long sigh as he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. So, you say we gotta do this when nobody’s watching?” he asked, and after Sam nodded, he continued. “We’ll also need some time, in case we have to wait for his answer. We have to be prepared for everything and anything.”

“I know. You think we can do it tonight?” Sam asked, but before he could have gotten an answer, the sound of a whistle silenced all the conversations in the room.

“That was the bell, guys,” he heard Leo from behind him, and when he turned around on the bench, the man was standing smugly behind them, watching as the inmates got to their feet and began walking to the door. “C’mon, time for work.”

Both brothers sighed in annoyance, Sam getting up and taking the tray to the bin, a bit surprised how close Dean followed him, but it also felt nice, in a way that he didn’t want to think about. “Well, let’s get to work then, shall we?” he said with zero enthusiasm, his big brother grunting his agreement as he followed Sam out of the mess hall.

*

Turns out, work wasn’t as bad as they thought it’d be. Dean, the moment he saw that there was the possibility to do some mechanic work, jumped at the chance, Sam obviously following him. There were many other inmates who joined them, and all they had to do was fix some broken machines and, to Dean’s greatest delight, there was even a car that needed some fixing.

After around half an hour or so, things started to get out of hand, though.

Dean was working on the car when another man joined him, a big fella whose body was probably made out of muscles only, and as his brother reached for one of the wrenches, the man snatched it away from him, forcefully pushing him aside to work on the car’s engine. “Hey, chill dude,” Dean growled, glaring at the back of the prisoner’s head as he pulled another tool out from the box and crouched down to work on the tires instead. But Big Man must have disliked the tone he was addressed with, because he stepped to the hunter, then violently kicked him in the shin before raising his leg and pushing Dean off balance and on the floor.

“I hear you man, see your mouth moving but I don’t understand what you’re saying ‘coz I don’t speak little bitch,” Big Man spat, laughing gruffly as other men joined him, and were about to surround Dean, when one of them just disappeared. Or at least, it looked like he did, since one second he was approaching the older hunter, and the next he was on the floor, grunting and screaming, as Sam used a flywheel turner to hit him in the back of his knee.

“The fuck?” the men around Dean turned around, coming face to face with a pretty pissed off Sam. How dare these fuckers hurt his brother? Sam glared at Big Man in particular as he closed in on him, holding the turner in a rather menacing way. Though as he heard one of the men bellow in rage, he realized that Dean didn’t really need too much protecting. Glancing at two other prisoners who joined the one already on the floor, Sam noticed a battery terminal spreader, if he remembered correctly, in Dean’s hand, the end of it covered in blood. His brother was standing again, with that look on his face that made even demons reconsider their, really short, life choices. There was a lot of glaring and silent eye-fighting, the tension in the room growing until Big Man let out an annoyed grunt and walked away, past Sam and bumped his bulky shoulder against his for good measure. Smiling internally, feeling glad that these people weren’t as stupid as they looked, and recognized real danger, Sam was about to check on Dean, when one of the prisoners just _had to_ be a cocky bastard, and threw a smaller wrench at Sam.

And that was when the guards showed up.

A total number of four correctional officers entered the room, which was a total overkill from Sam’s point of view, and immediately seized the wrench throwing prisoner. Unfortunately, Sam and Dean were also holding possibly lethal weapons, so they were quickly shoved to the floor and none too gently ‘disarmed’. “Nobody move, you scum!” one of the officers barked, most likely the one holding Sam’s wrist behind his back in a death grip and pressing a taser against the hunter’s throat, because Sam could feel cold drops of spittle land on the back of his neck, which was just incredibly disgusting. He prayed that the pent up officer wasn’t going to actually use the taser on him, and was relieved that he was only asked, or more like ordered, to stand up, but slowly. “I fucking catch you playing Dirty Harry in here again, I’ll end you. All of you,” the man growled, releasing Sam, who looked over his shoulder and finally got a look at the officer he named Spitter. He looked like someone straight out of a cop movie, and not from one of those porn versions that Dean so loved to watch. This guy was big, as in his diet must only consist in donuts big, half bald and ginger with bushy eyebrows and a moustache.

“Guy was fugly,” Dean muttered when the officers finally left. “The others weren’t pretty either but that big one wins the prize.”

“You tell me. He freaking spit on my neck. Now I feel even dirtier than before,” Sam sighed, frantically rubbing at the back of his neck with the sleeve of his prison shirt. He looked around and felt a surge of hope when he realized that they were the only ones in the room for the moment. “Hey, Dean,” he whispered, stepping a little closer to his brother, who seemed to tense at the sudden closeness.

“What?” he swallowed, glancing around the room as if to make sure that they weren’t being watched. Sam had a brief thought, something that flashed through his mind for just only a second. He wondered how easy it’d be for inmates to engage in various sexual activities with each other if guards tended to just leave them alone in rooms like this. That, if Dean and he were in that kind of relationship, then now would be the perfect time to- “Sammy?”

Dean’s voice made him snap out of it, and he hoped that he didn’t look like he felt. He cleared his throat and looked at the closed door, then back at his brother. “We’re alone, Dean. We should call Cas.”

Realization was visible on Dean’s face as he let out a quiet “Oooh,” and nodded in agreement, then took a step back from Sam, who didn’t even realize how close they were until just now. Shit. Now he understood why prisoners tended to turn towards the other men to seek comfort, being locked up like that could really make people delirious. He mentally slapped himself, forcing his mind to concentrate on important matters. Letting out a shaky sigh, he looked up at the ceiling, listening to Dean’s prayer, which sounded more rude than efficient. “Castiel, oh we pray for you to get your feathery ass over here from wherever you are. We need you, angel.”

“Really? You think he’ll come like that?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow when Dean just shrugged.

“Why not? He usually does, no matter how we call him.”

“Right…let me try,” he grinned when his brother rolled his eyes, but before Sam could have even muttered a word, an inmate burst through the door, followed by many other, who gave them an odd look before picking up various tools and getting to work. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, then sighed in defeat. Maybe another time, they thought.

*

Sam and Dean chose anger management, for the group assembly, or whatever the next thing was on the time schedule. It all worked out better than expected, aside from a mental breakdown from one of the inmates and a brief fight between two prisoners who were glaring at each other throughout the whole session.

“Well, that was fun,” Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as they walked to his block. Sam asked his brother to show him his cell and the famous Snorlax he had as a cellmate. They met up with Leo on their way and had a short chat, the man telling them to meet him in his and Sam’s cell for further information. The guy really loved hearing himself talk, but at least he wasn’t like that other person they knew who loved his own voice. That gave Sam a thought, and as they were walking, he found himself wondering aloud.

“Weird, isn’t it? That there aren’t any demons here. I thought that there would be some,” he said, keeping his voice low. Dean turned to look at him and slowed down a little, looking like as if Sam just told him that he was surprised that there weren’t unicorns in here.

“Dude, why would demons go to prison? It’s usually their meatsuit that ends up in jail, the demon smoking out as soon as possible. Why the hell would it decide to stay?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

Sam thought about that, then shrugged and looked around. “Just for the fun of it, you know? Imagine you’re a demon, way stronger than any human, and you get locked up in a place where being strong means you’re on top of the food chain. How much fun could a demon have in prison, laughing into the other prisoners’ faces when he breaks their arms with only a snap on his fingers?” he wondered, frowning as he realized something. “Hey…what if that Diablo guy is a demon?”

“Seriously?” Dean asked, though he didn’t seem skeptical anymore, just surprised. “You think the prison’s big boss is a demon? Though, I guess with a name like ‘Diablo’, it’s not that hard to believe,” he trailed off, nodding to himself, then was probably about to say something else as he opened his mouth, but the voice Sam heard, didn’t come from his brother.

“What about me?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he quickly closed his mouth, looking over Sam’s shoulder at someone. Sam tensed, knowing that this couldn’t be good and, putting on his most menacing expression, turned around.

Diablo was a big guy. As big as Sam, actually. He had long brown hair that reached his shoulders, a Van Dyke beard and piercing brown eyes that were so dark that they were pretty much black. He had scars all over his large arms, which were also covered with tattoos from dying roses to, Sam was pretty sure, devil worship. A large scar ran down from the right side of his forehead to his cheek, only mere inches away from his eye. No wonder they called him the Devil. This man certainly looked the part. Though, the real devil was much scarier than he looked, so Sam learned that looks weren’t what always mattered. When Diablo spoke again, his voice was low and gravelly, with a hint of Mexican accent. “So, I’m gonna ask again. What about me?”

Dean cleared his throat but, again, before he could have said a word, Sam narrowed his eyes and slightly raised his chin, maintaining eye-contact with the man as he took a step closer to Diablo. He was pretty sure that what he was doing was suicide, but he knew that showing fear in these kinds of situations was an even bigger mistake. “None of your damn business.”

Diablo’s lips quirked in amusement as he stared at Sam, then he suddenly started grinning, which turned into a chuckle, then a laugh. “None of my business? You sure, boy? Because I could make you spill your guts for me, one way or another,” he paused, looking the hunter up and down before stepping closer to him, their chests nearly pressing together and, Sam didn’t show it, but it was really uncomfortable. “Though you don’t seem like the kind who’d go down without a fight. You’re…more like me. But I wonder if I could make you squeal, like a little pig. So, will you be a piggy, or-“ he stopped, suddenly grabbing Sam’s hair and yanked his head back, then leaned close to whisper in his ear, “-will you be a wolf?”

Sam clenched his jaw, glaring at the man, staying silent. He wasn’t going to answer, it didn’t matter how this bastard was going to try to make him talk. Defiance is what pisses these kinds of sons of bitches off the most, so Sam was going to do everything in his power to get under the man’s skin. He beat the Devil once, and this time wasn’t going to be any different.

Diablo stared at him for a long time, waiting, watching, then with a low growl he let go of the hunter’s hair and stepped back. “I see,” he grinned, glancing at Dean, who was glaring at the men that were surrounding Diablo. He let out a deep throaty laugh and licked his lips, then turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing as his followers crowded around him, but not before the hunters heard him say, “See ya ’round.”

The inmates who watched the whole thing exchanged surprised and uneasy looks before scurrying away, some of them actually nodding at Sam. However instead of feeling proud, he let out a huge sigh and turned around, instinctively letting his head fall on his confused brother’s shoulder. But Dean didn’t object, and instead just patted his little brother’s back. “Hell, man, what the fuck was all that about?”

“Beats me. But he seemed pretty damn suspicious. Probably gonna try and beat us up next chance he gets,” he sighed, inhaling his big brother’s scent which surprisingly managed to calm him down, then pulled back and flashed a small smile at Dean. “I guess Leo was right. And from the way he acted, I think he’s going to try and ‘recruit’ me.”

“Damn,” Dean frowned, throwing glares at the few prisoners that stared at them for too long. “He was creepy. Looked at me real weird, you know? It made me feel sick.”

“Yeah, I saw. I’ve got no idea what he’s thinking, but I suggest we stay the hell away from him. I really don’t think that we need the extra trouble, though judging from the amount of people that were following him around, I’d say keeping our distance from him will be hard. Hard, but not impossible,” Sam paused, grabbing Dean’s arm as he tugged him towards his own cell. “We need friends.”

“What? Friends?” Dean sounded a bit confused, but it only took him a few seconds to catch on. “You mean Leo and his buddies? Wait…do you think that, if we hang out with them, Diablo would leave us alone? Last time I checked, Leo wasn’t really the big Hulk who could save us, Sammy.”

“I know, but it’s something. It’s much worse, if it’s just the two of us, you saw that yourself. There’s power in numbers,” Sam said, ignoring the stares as he pulled his protesting brother to his cell, though when they were halfway there, Dean pulled his arm away, growling something along the lines of ‘not your ragdoll’.

“Guys! Fuck, heard the news!” he heard Leo before he saw him, then the man emerged from their cell and looked both of them over, as if looking for a scar. “Shit, you’re okay. I thought that the rumors were just a bunch of crap, but you really are okay. Miracle, I’m telling you.”

“Leo, what are you talking about?” Sam asked, walking to his bed and sitting down, his brother joining him, seeming rather relaxed considering their situation. “Diablo, man! Heard that you guys had a stare down. I’m surprised that nobody died, let alone left uninjured. Especially you, Dean.”

His brother frowned at that, looking slightly taken aback. “Me? Why me?”

“Oh, you know. We talked about it…” Leo cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow as if waiting for them to catch on, and when they did, Sam couldn’t stop smiling.

“What the fuck? You telling me that, what, I’m lucky I didn’t get raped? Yeah, awesome,” he growled, then glared at his smiling brother. “Sam, you think this is funny, seriously?”

Shaking his head, Sam’s smile just widened. “No, not that. Raping isn’t funny. But your reaction to the obvious, that is,” he grinned, laughing when his brother punched his arm.

“It’s weird, though,” Leo muttered, drawing the fighting brothers’ attention. “Never really heard of Diablo doing that, letting people go unscratched. This is a really bad sign.”

“Bad sign? How about good one? Because I, personally, am very happy that both of us still have our balls intact, thank you very much. How is that something bad?” Dean asked incredulously, unconsciously moving closer Sam, who didn’t hate the way his brother’s knee and elbow brushed against his.

“Well, mainly because it never happened before, as I already said. Which kinda means that he’s planning something. And that, is never good, my friends,” he sighed, the hunters seeing actual pity in his eyes as he smiled. “But don’t worry, as long as you don’t piss him off, you should be…maybe, alright.”

Great. Pissing the dickhead off was Sam’s plan. He just really hoped that they could get out of here before running into the man again. “Uh, hey…” he scratched the back of his head, looking hopefully at his new friend.

“Yeah?” Leo tilted his head, sensing that Sam wanted to ask something important.

“I was just wondering, could we like… you know, change our cellmates or something? Is there an option for that?”

“You wanna sleep with your brother?” Leo asked, and Sam nodded, ignoring how that actually sounded. “Well, nah, I don’t think so. We don’t get that kind of luxury, or else everyone would ask for it. Sorry.”

He sighed, glancing at his big brother, who was looking at him in an odd way. “What?”

Frowning, Dean shook his head and followed Sam’s example, letting out a long sigh. “Nothing. This situation is just really fucking irritating. We should really, you know,” he glanced at the ceiling, his subtle way of telling Sam that they should really get the fuck out of here.

“I know man. I know,” Sam rubbed his eyes, starting to feel a bit drowsy. This day has been horrible and he really needed a shower and a good night’s sleep. Quite sure that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep too much tonight, at least the shower part was supposed to be possible. Unless someone dropped the soap. He shuddered, pulling a face as he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and stood up, Dean following him like a loyal dog, which made Sam smile. “Hey, is it time to shower yet?” he asked, looking at Leo.

He nodded, pointing behind his back with his thumb. “Yeah, the showers are usually open around this hour. Wanna go?”

“Showers? Please tell me that they are separated with something,” Dean visibly swallowed, looking nervous all of a sudden, that is, until Sam laughed. Then, he just looked angry. “What now?”

“Dean, would you stop worrying about your ass?” Sam grinned, just laughing even more when he saw the shocked expression on his brother’s face. “I know that we said you’re the ideal prisoner to be picked on and stuff, but I already told you. I’m here, and I will protect you when you can’t. Being so worried just makes you look like you’re unable to protect yourself from some horny men. Or is that it? You need constant protection, princess?”

Dean blinked, opening and closing his mouth like some kind of fish before narrowing his eyes and glaring at Sam. “You…fine. I can protect myself, I’m not some kind of damsel in distress, you bitch. I’ll show you,” he growled, standing straight and proud as he kept on glaring at his brother, who flashed him a grin and, just for good measure, licked his lips, which must have done something to Dean because the next second he didn’t look so confident. More like uncomfortable and sheepish, though only for a moment. He cleared his throat and looked at Leo, obviously waiting for him to lead the way.

Sam found his big brother adorable, at that moment, but he quickly buried that thought. “Well then, grab your towels and follow me, gentlemen,” Leo broke the silence filled with something that was _not_ sexual tension, and walked out of the cell, Sam and Dean following him close behind.

They walked to Dean’s cell first, to retrieve his towel, Sam already having his, and then went to the mess hall, taking a left turn and entered a room that looked similar to a gym locker room. Inside, there were already a lot of men in the process of undressing or putting their prison clothes on or, even worse, walking around totally naked. It was a sight that got etched forever into Sam’s brain, possibly scarring him for life. “Oh god,” he heard Dean from behind him, probably feeling the same way as Sam.

“And this isn’t even the busiest hour either,” Leo chuckled, patting Dean’s back before nodding towards the showers that were, unfortunately, not separated by anything. “The faster you get on with it, the faster it’ll be over. C’mon.”

The lockers were separated, all cell blocks having their own line of lockers. That meant that Dean would have to undress alone, which was probably the worst news he has heard that day, or at least that’s what it looked like judging from the face he made when he found out. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he shook his head, unintentionally stepping closer to Sam. “Dean, come on, it’s going to be fine,” Sam smiled, gently squeezing his big brother’s shoulder.

He frowned, sighing somewhat melodramatically as he shook Sam’s hand off of him. “Yeah yeah, I know it’s gonna be fine. Right…see you in the showers,” he mumbled, taking off to the A block’s lockers.

“He’s special, your brother,” Leo snorted, beckoning Sam to follow him to their lockers. And even though he seemed fine, Sam was pretty worried about his big brother. He made it look like he was sure that nothing wrong was going to happen to Dean, that he could rest assured, Sam would protect him, but how was he supposed to look out for him, to trust him, when he was alone, surrounded by naked men? Sam hasn’t seen his big brother naked for years, not completely, but he was sure that Dean had a dream body, which just made things so much worse.

Though it never really occurred to him that, maybe, he should be worried about himself instead.

Leo finished undressing sooner than Sam, and disappeared in the showers, while the hunter was fighting with the too tight pants he got. Finally managing to peel it off, he reached for his towel – only to find it missing.

“Looking for this, sweetheart?” came a deep voice from behind him, and as Sam turned around, he found himself face to face with an equally tall man. He was bald, with piercing gray eyes that were indiscreetly roaming Sam’s body, lingering at his exposed dick.

“Give it back,” Sam growled, really not in the mood to deal with jackasses like him. But it seemed like the man couldn’t get a hint, because he simply stepped closer and when he did, Sam could have sworn that there was something…oh no.

“Feisty one, aren’t you? I love a challenge,” the man purred, backing Sam into the locker and, just as the hunter thought, he rubbed his _erect dick_ against him. Fucking gross. Sam clenched his jaw, knowing that the kinds of perverts like this guy never backed down easy, so he did the only thing that came to his mind. He grinned and grabbed the man’s dick, internally freaking out, then squeezed it so hard that the guy let out a pathetic whimper.

“I said, give it back. I won’t ask twice,” he said in the most threatening voice he could manage, about to rip the sobbing guy’s dick off when he finally shoved Sam’s towel against his chest, pleading him to stop. The hunter sank his nails into the man’s dick, Baldy letting out such a painful shriek that it hurt Sam’s ears, before letting go of his dick. “Good. Now, if I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate and rip that disgusting piece of shit off, understand?” he raised an eyebrow, the man nodding rapidly and scurrying away from him while holding his softening dick. Served the fucker right, trying to hit on Sam. Feeling proud, he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, after wiping his hand on the fabric, and headed towards the showers, when something stopped him. There seemed to be a commotion going on at the corner of the showers. Walking closer, Sam noticed a bunch of naked guys, which meant bare asses that he really wished he could have missed out on, crowding at the corner, probably surrounding a poor guy. He sighed, not really wanting to be part of a gang rape, but when he heard the familiar deep voice that now seemed full of anger and fear, his blood ran cold.

Dean.


	5. Open Your Eyes, Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've always been good at playing pretend, so it should be a piece of cake this time too, right? Except this time, it's not FBI agents they're pretending to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go! :D

He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach and wasn’t able to move for several seconds as he watched a figure, _his brother_ , being held against the shower wall, while other men closed in on him. Then Dean saw him and they made eye contact, and Sam snapped. Something primal, ancient inside of him was let loose, and he must have growled, looking and sounding scary as hell, because some of the men looked over their shoulders and gasped, immediately taking a few steps back. Sam stomped to the remaining bunch that seemed too occupied in trying to feel his brother up, then all Hell was let loose.

He grabbed one of the guys’ hair and yanked his head back, then smashed his face into the tile, again and again, and again, until blood was smeared all across the wall. Dropping the guy, Sam turned to the others and lashed out, punching and breaking noses, kicking and cracking ribs, ignoring the blows he received. At one point he found himself on the floor, being kicked by two or three men, but he quickly grabbed one of their ankles and pulled. He was like a possessed man, rage clouding his vision as he beat them all up to a bloody pulp, the sound of screaming and fractured skulls filling the room. He gained an audience pretty soon, men cheering and yelling, urging him on to kill the others, and Sam would have loved to do just that, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“…mmy! Sammy!” Dean shouted, shaking Sam out of his frenzy. He looked up from destroying a guy’s face to Dean, who was watching him with wide eyes, shaking his head. “Sammy, shit, stop it! Calm the fuck down, we’re gonna get in so much trouble,” he sounded worried, scared, and it didn’t take much time for Sam to realized that his brother was worried about him. He was breathing hard as he looked down at the limp body under him, probably passed out or worse, then slowly got up on his feet.

“I…fuck,” he looked around, some of the men backing away when they made eye contact with him, and even though that made him feel kind of satisfied, it was wrong. That wasn’t supposed to happen, he shouldn’t have snapped like that. Hurriedly washing the blood off his wrist and face and chest, damn how did he get so bloody, Sam ran back to the locker and put his clothes on, Dean following his example, and soon, they were both hurrying out of the locker room and towards the cells.

“Man…wow,” was all Dean offered, leaning against the wall when they reached Sam’s cell. And Sam couldn’t have agreed more. He had no idea what got into him back then. He just…he remembered feeling an insane amount of rage, and even though he knew he had some problems, all his life he was angry at something, but never like this, it was never so overwhelming. He let out a shaky sigh, stumbling to his bed and collapsing on it, sitting in a daze.

“I don’t know,” he said, as if answering a question in the air. They stayed silent for a while, Dean watching Sam, and Sam staring at his bruised knuckles in his lap, when Leo emerged through the doorway.

“Uh…Sam?” he cleared his throat, glancing from left to right before walking closer to the hunter. “We’ve got a problem.”

Looking up, Sam didn’t exactly trust his voice but he still managed to sound rather normal when he asked, “What?”

Leo pulled a face, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eyes before looking back at Sam. “It’s Krueger. You know, the correctional officer of nightmares? He checked the showers, asking what happened, and though some of the inmates started respecting you and stayed silent, the ones you beat up ratted you out with ease.”

“Wait, so, Krueger is coming to get me?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous and scared, though he didn’t regret what he did. Not at all.

“Yeah, m’fraid so,” Leo sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“No,” Dean said, looking somewhat devastated. “I won’t let a fucking guard beat my brother up.”

“Dean…” Sam shook his head, but before he could have continued, a loud voice echoed through the corridor.

“Sam Smith, inmate, I want you before my eyes, right this second!”

They stayed silent, Dean grabbing Sam’s arm when he walked out the door, but the younger hunter pulled away. “Dean, just… stay here, okay? Don’t come outside,” he said sternly, then began walking down the corridor.

Krueger was waiting in the middle of the corridor, and Sam wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence or not, but he did, in fact, look like the man from the horror movie. Minus the burnt skin, that is. He was pretty old, had wrinkles all over his face, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. His eyes were the worst. They were light brown and looked like they could kill. Some people just had a stare that sent chills down others’ spine, and this man was one of those. He had a big, hefty body like all the others, and he looked more like a prisoner than a guard, and as Sam walked towards him, he resembled more and more to Walter White.

Great. He was going to get beaten up by a guy who was the illegitimate child of Freddy Krueger and Walter White.

“Sam Smith,” the man barked, his voice like sandpaper. “You have beaten five inmates up pretty badly. May I know the reason, why?”

Sam wasn’t sure how to answer, so he settled with, “They deserved it.”

“Deserved it? So you just like, what, give out free beatings to people who deserve it? If we’re going by that logic, everyone should be beaten up to a bloody pulp in this godforsaken prison!” Krueger yelled, taking a step towards Sam.

He didn’t answer, though kept eye contact with the guard. Sam was going to be damned if he’d lower his eyes because of a man who just used the excuse that he was an officer to beat others up. That was worse than an actual criminal.

“Well, mister Smith,” he grinned, a nasty, yellow teethed grin, as he pulled out a police baton, and Sam dug his nails into his palms. “If we live by that logic, that means that I’m allowed to beat you up, am I right?”

Well, that was going to hurt.

*

That night, Sam could barely sleep. Not just because he was in a prison and the mattress felt suspicious, but because that Krueger guy seriously beat him up. He was aching all over his body, mostly his head, his sides, his back and calf. He didn’t even know that hits to his calf would hurt that much. At first he tried to protect himself, but he soon learned that was a pretty bad idea.

When the beating was finally over, Sam stood up straight and walked, or more like limped, back to his cell with as much pride as he had left. Though, judging by the looks some of the prisoners gave him, he still had their respect.

Probably because he didn’t wail like a girl while getting beaten up, but instead he just took it. Sam felt himself leveling up in manliness.

Obviously, Dean didn’t feel so happy when he saw the purple bruises on his little brother and instantly went into big brother mode, urging Sam to sit down on the bed and let him take care of him. Dean somehow found a handkerchief that lacked some of the mysterious stains and dipped it in water, pressing the cold fabric to the wound at Sam’s jaw.

“Stay still, dammit,” he ordered, when Sam hissed and wiggled uncomfortably, but enjoyed the way his brother took care of him nonetheless.

They didn’t talk while Dean tried his best to ease the pain, but when he was done and sat down next to Sam, Leo broke the silence.

“Guys, I have an idea,” he said hesitantly, and if Sam would have known at that time what his friend wanted to say, he’d have understood why he seemed so reluctant on sharing his idea.

“Yeah?” Dean raised an eyebrow and lightly placed a hand on Sam’s knee, the soft touch warming the hunter’s skin where Dean’s hand touched his knee. He tried to ignore the warmth, however.

“Well, I saw Sam. When he beat those guys up. And, I’m pretty sure that you guys didn’t notice it while hurrying out of the room, but a lot of the guys in there backed away from you, left you room, and even averted their gaze, mostly from Dean.”

“Seriously?” and “Really?” came from both of the hunters. Leo nodded, and took a deep breath as he continued.

“So, I was thinking…you guys have a better chance at surviving prison if you stick together. In the prison way,” he cleared his throat and glanced from Sam to Dean, but when none of them showed any signs of getting what he meant, Leo closed his eyes and said, “You need to be prison lovers, boys.”

“Prison what?” Dean asked, looking at Leo with wide eyes, and Sam was watching his cellmate with a pretty shocked expression too.

“Prison lovers. You guys can protect each other that way. You, uh…have to show everyone that you belong to each other, pretty much how Sam beat all those guys up. I dunno if you realized, Sam, but the way you snapped back there was like a clear sign, telling everyone that Dean belonged to you,” he said with a crooked grin on his face.

Sam just blinked, trying not to show how uncomfortable and nervous he felt as Dean stared at him. “So…you’re saying that we should, what, act like a goddamn couple?” he heard Dean ask, finally looking away from Sam.

“Well, basically, yes.”

“I can’t do that, man! Sam is- he’s my brother,” he grumbled, glancing at Sam, who wasn’t fast enough to look away and quickly found himself staring into those gorgeous green eyes, unable to stop himself from lowering his gaze to Dean’s plump, soft looking lips, and he really should stop staring at his brother. Leo cleared his throat again, drawing the brothers’ attention, and grinned.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be alright. And it’s for survival, guys. All you gotta do is some touching here, some kissing there and you’ll be fine. S’not that hard, boys,” he said, winking at Sam. “You better show ‘em who Dean belongs to.”

Shifting in his bed now, Sam remembered Dean’s face, how it looked flushed and how he seemed nervous. Sam found it pretty adorable. After that, they talked a bit before it was time for Dean to return to his cell. They reluctantly agreed that they’d start acting as lovers tomorrow, Dean looking unhappy with the current events, but Sam couldn’t blame him.

It was weird, though. He did feel a bit nervous too, obviously, but he was also rather happy and excited. Which just showed how fucked up he was, feeling all excited about having to kiss Dean.

Kiss, his own brother.

Damn.

Sam let out a quiet sigh, rolling in the bed, careful not to bury his face in the pillow like he used to. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

*

Next morning, Sam woke up to yelling. Loud chatters, deafening yells and the annoying clinking sound of cells being opened made him groan, still half asleep.

“Rise ‘n shine, newbie. Better hurry up for breakfast, or you’ll have to wait in line which, let me tell you, is hell,” Leo exclaimed, looking way too cheerful for a prisoner who looked like a mix of Thor and Hulk. Sam yawned, reluctantly sitting up and left the warmth of the blanket. Waiting for Leo to finish washing his face, he wondered if Dean’s cellmate was going to show up for breakfast, or just sleep through the whole day again. He washed up too, then after making sure that he didn’t have bed hair, followed Leo to the mess hall.

“Yo, guys!” Leo shouted to a group of people, then engaged in a very complicated handshake with every one of them before turning back to Sam, smiling widely. “Dude, these are my pals, the ones I was talking about.”

Sam remembered Leo telling them that he had some friends who were ‘normal’ like him, but he never met them. That is, until now. They looked special, all three of them. Beckoning Sam to follow them, Leo and his friends walked to an empty table and sat down.

“We gonna get breakfast when the line disappeared, until then, lemme introduce you to my friends,” Leo grinned happily, nodding at the first guy to his left, since they were seated in a way where all four inmates were on one side of the table while Sam sat alone on the other side. Though, he knew that he wasn’t going to stay alone for too long. “This here is Joe,” Leo explained, introducing the first man, who looked pretty normal. Maybe the most decent looking Sam has seen ever since he entered prison. He had short black hair, green eyes and a bit of stubble. “Joe here was an arsonist. Loved to put stuff on fire, until he made the mistake of setting a factory on fire and killing the people inside with a massive explosion.”

“Well, I didn’t know that it was a liquor factory. Not really my fault,” Joe chuckled, winking at the man sitting next to him. “I guess I did a favor for you eh, Mike?”

The man, Mike, just grunted and buried his face in his hands, looking like he was about to pass out. He had lost most of his hair and had a pretty unkempt moustache, and that was all Sam could see before he covered his face with his palms. “Yeah, that’s Mike. A total drunkard, who caused tons of accidents with his drunk driving and hit and runs. Got busted when he drove into a shop and accidentally ran over an officer,” Leo said, then pointing at the last man at the table, a skinny black man with an actual afro. “And over there’s T, or Tony. He was a pretty good swindler, until one of his scams backfired and he got busted. And that’s it, that’s our team.”

“Nice to meet y’all, I guess,” Sam said, nodding at the men before one of them, Mike, looked up from his hands and narrowed his eyes.

“And who are you, huh?” he asked, watching him suspiciously. Sam sighed and remained expressionless as he looked him over.

“Name’s Sam Smith. I used to kill people, those who deserved killing,” he said coldly, daring even one of them to say something, and he really must have had one of _those_ looks, because Mike just nodded, however Tony asked, “So you’re like, a hitman?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Sam agreed.

They stayed silent after that, glancing from each other to the line that just didn’t seem to shrink, and Sam was really starting to get hungry. Yesterday, he only ate like two spoons of mystery spinach and let Dean eat his dinner instead, leaving him starving. Though he wasn’t hungry then, or at night, but now he was feeling it, the hunger making his stomach hurt. He kept tapping his fingers on the table, also beginning to feel a bit worried, wondering where Dean was and, as if there was some sort of mental string attaching them, his brother suddenly appeared behind him and sat down on the bench, sitting close to him.

“Hey Sam,” he flashed a small grin at his little brother, then looked around the people in front of them, noticing that they gained three extra guys at their table. “And who’re these?”

“These, are my buddies I talked about. Dean, this is Joe, Mike and Tony. Guys, this is Dean Smith, Sam’s brother…” Leo paused, glancing at the hunters before saying, “And lover.” That took all of them by surprise. Sam knew that they would have to start pretending from today on, but he wanted to ease into it, not just jump into their roles head first like this. He looked at Dean and, sure enough, he looked just as uncomfortable as Sam felt. Yeah, this was going to be awkward.

“Uh,” Joe cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, that… that’s new. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t got nothing against you know, gays, or incest. It’s just-“

“Unusual, even for us,” Tony helped out, Mike nodding his agreement. They looked slightly spooked but not disgusted. Guess people get used to weird shit while in prison, Sam thought.

“Yeah,” he heard Dean mumble, something that Sam didn’t think his brother would attempt for like the next ten minutes or so. “We’re kinda, unusual,” he said, frowning and looking like he was in the middle of making the hardest decision in his life, like that one time when he was full but still had his cherry pie left, and didn’t know if he should either just leave it, or force it down, even though that would mean he’d probably puke it all out later. Sam wondered what his brother was thinking about now, but he didn’t have to wait long before finding out. Dean visibly clenched his jaw as he put his hand on his brother’s knee, then slowly trailed his hand to Sam’s thigh and squeezed it.

Sam’s breath hitched, and he looked at Dean with wide eyes. Dean must have taken that as some kind of encouragement, because the next second his hand began moving further, getting dangerously close to his crotch, and Sam could feel himself harden. That made him snap out of it, and he quickly grabbed his brother’s wrist, pushing his hand away and praying that Dean didn’t notice his bulge.

But he did.

Glancing at his brother, Sam realized that Dean was straight-out staring at his crotch, then when he looked up and made eye contact with his little brother, the expression on his face changed from shocked to…somewhat wicked.

“Whoa, lovebirds, don’t you dare start humpin’ each other on this table, or we’re gonna have a problem,” Tony laughed, then stood up and nodded at the small line at the kitchen. “Anyway, who’s up for breakfast?” he asked and walked over to the line, the rest of the crew joining him and, as Leo went to follow his friend, he winked at the hunters, mouthing something that looked like ‘good job’.

Sam cleared his throat, building the courage to say something, “Dean,” he tried, but was quickly cut off by his brother.

“Sammy, if you’re going to keep being this jumpy, then we’ll never get anywhere with this plan,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow as he put his hand back on Sam’s thigh. “C’mon, you’re supposed to be the big man here, protecting me and shit. You can’t chicken out now.”

He was a bit surprised by Dean’s eagerness, but his brother was clearly forcing himself for both of their safety, so the least Sam could do was to play along. He nodded, then hesitantly reached out and caressed Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. And to his biggest surprise, his brother actually blushed, before leaning into his touch. Sam could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he was starting to breathe harder as he leaned closer to Dean and ran his thumb across his big brother’s lower lip.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered, the green of his eyes seemingly disappearing, and he tentatively moved his hand to Sam’s bulge, softly stroking his hardness. Sam looked, searched for a look of hesitation, disgust or discomfort, but found none of that as Dean stroked him through his pants, and Sam was really having a hard time not to buck into his brother’s hand. He swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips as he moved his own hand down Dean’s chest, then stopped, resting his hand open palmed over his brother’s heart, which was thumping quickly. It sent some kind of warmth all over his body, and he felt a weird sensation, something he only felt once before, when he was with Jess, when he was happy and away from all the things that go bump in the night. Sam looked into those gorgeous eyes, feeling Dean’s heartbeat, his hand, emotions and lust overwhelming him, and he suddenly knew.

He quickly withdrew his hand and so did Dean, probably wondering if he did something wrong. Sam was breathing hard, blinking repeatedly as if he was disoriented. “You okay, Sam?” Dean asked, a sly grin crossing his face and doing some real nasty things to Sam’s dick.

“Yeah, uh, perfect,” he mumbled, nodding and wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, noticing how Dean was staring at his lips, which was really unfair. This was weird. Dean changed, for sure. He became more…well, Sam wasn’t sure what yet, but he couldn’t say that he disliked it, even though his brother’s current attitude was obviously making things worse for him.

Since Sam just realized that he was in love with his brother, like a minute ago.


	6. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have to pretend. Pretend that they love each other, that they enjoy the fake possessive kisses and touches.  
> But then again, is it really faking, at this point?

That day was a living Hell for Sam.

Or more like, Heaven.

A man who loves pancakes dies from eating too much. If he had to describe how his day was, that would be it.

When Dean and him had their little moment at breakfast, that was when Sam realized that he loved his brother more than it was normal. More than brotherly. He wasn’t sure when exactly, maybe while his hand was on his brother’s heart, which just made everything a hundred times more cliché, but he just knew, suddenly, that he loved Dean. However, at the same time he realized that, Sam also knew that he could never act on those feelings, not really. He couldn’t let his feelings destroy their relationship, he’d rather die than tell Dean that he was in love with him, let alone actually touch him.

Though with their current situation, that didn’t seem so easy. On one hand, Sam could touch his brother as much as he wanted, since it was all just part of an act, which was all good, but on the other hand, having Dean keep on constantly rubbing against him and slipping his hands up Sam’s shirt really didn’t help. Sam was starting to panic, fearing that if Dean kept on touching him like that, he’d turn into a rapist, just like the other inmates, and simply rape his brother.

So, yeah, it was hard.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, and it unfortunately wasn’t the annoyed, ‘Dean, I’ve had enough of your shit’ sigh, but more like a pleased one. His brother grinned, burying his face in Sam’s neck and placing soft kisses on his skin, making him shiver. While on their way to work, Dean managed to push him against a wall and began rolling his hips seductively, grinding against Sam, who probably managed to beat his record time in which he popped a boner.

“Sammy, want your big hands all over me,” Dean purred, and Sam knew that his brother must have had a dirty mouth but shit, he really wasn’t expecting dirty talk while pretending. “Bend me over and make me yours,” he said, and finally, he was blushing at his own words. Small victories.

Sam ran his hands down his brother’s back, hesitating above his ass, then just when he decided to man up and slid his hands lower, Dean abruptly stepped back, his face an even deeper shade of red than before. “Oh, acting all virgin-like, are we?” Sam teased, winking at his brother who just rolled his eyes and tugged Sam to work.

And each time, it was Dean who took the initiative. He sneaked up on Sam, cupping his balls or running a finger down his spine. However, Sam soon managed to get used to the little touches and started giving back, groping and touching Dean whenever he could. And all the while they felt each other up, they made sure that people were watching, probably developing an exhibitionism kink in the process.

It was around the time when they were allowed to go outside, to the yard, that things took a 180 degree turn.

It was a sunny day, but still a bit chilly so they put their coats on. Sam and Dean were standing at the right side of the fence, exchanging knowing glances and, when they were both sure that they were out of earshot, Dean sighed. “Dude, we can never be alone. At this rate, we’ll never get out of here. I mean, I’ve been praying for Cas before sleep yesterday, but I’m pretty sure that he either didn’t hear me or just doesn’t give a crap.”

“Or, he needs a good reason. If we ask at the same time, tell and explain to him what’s going on, I’m sure he’ll show up.”

“Yeah, maybe, eventually.”

“C’mon, don’t be so negative Dean,” Sam managed a small smile, nudging his brother’s arm. Dean returned his smile, stepping closer to his little brother and running a hand down his arm.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, frowning as he looked around. “Nobody’s watching right now.”

“Yeah, they’re not looking…yet,” Dean purred, licking his lips as he slipped his cold hand under Sam’s shirt, the hunter shuddering at the cold, but somewhat warm feeling.

“You seem desperate, brother,” he chuckled, successfully making Dean blush, something that Sam realized he loved, then wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him closer. “Fine. _Honey_.”

Dean laughed, an addicting sound, and caressed his littler brother’s chest under his clothes, while Sam sneakily slipped his hands into Dean’s pants, squeezing his warm ass. He gasped, looking up at Sam with a death glare which didn’t seem that scary with the way Dean was blushing, then when Sam grinned, he leaned forward and bit into his brother’s neck, making him tense.

“Dean, you’re gonna leave a mark,” Sam growled, digging his nails into Dean’s ass, which had the complete opposite effect of what he was expecting. His brother moaned, tentatively pushing his ass out and into Sam’s hands, while nibbling and nipping at the, surprisingly sensitive, skin on his brother’s neck.

“Mm, yeah, that’s why I’m doin’ it. Gotta mark my property, yeah?” Dean mumbled against Sam’s neck, beginning to suck and kiss and fucking lick at his neck, making him groan lowly. Fuck, what even is self control? Sam let out a shaky exhale, pulling Dean’s hips closer and began grinding against him, feeling his brother’s hard-on against his, and that was a thought to ponder on. Then Dean finally pulled back, licking his lips as he marveled at his work on Sam’s neck, grinning wickedly. “Lookin’ good,” he chuckled, and Sam had enough. If Dean was going to mark him, then Sam was going to take the opportunity and claim his brother, even if it was all just an act, he could pretend, imagine that this was actually real, as he pulled one of his hands out from his brother’s pants and grabbed his short hair. Sam pulled his head back, Dean letting out a small grunt. He then attacked his big brother’s neck, kissing and biting, leaving teeth marks and hickeys everywhere he could, and just loving the sounds Dean made.

“Shit, Sammy,” he whimpered, actually fucking whimpered, grabbing Sam’s head and pulling him impossibly closer, while bucking his hips wildly and desperately. Sam growled, a strong need to _claim, own, protect_ washing over him, and Dean let out a loud moan when his brother backed him into the fence, immediately drawing the prisoners’ full attention. And even though Sam couldn’t see them, way too busy with marking his brother, he sure as hell heard them, whistling and howling, cheering them on and some of them even made fake erotic noises. It was very annoying and Sam found himself turning away from Dean, who watched him through half lidded eyes, looking a bit disappointed at the sudden loss, though Sam didn’t plan on leaving his brother unattended for long. The only reason he pulled his lips away from Dean’s skin, was to turn and glare at the other prisoners in the yard, silently telling them to fuck off with his eyes and, for a brief moment, he was pretty sure that he heard himself growl. And it seemed to work, because most of them frowned and stayed quiet, backed away, or glared back at him before turning away.

Pleased with himself, Sam grinned at his brother, who was now smiling. “Showed them who’s boss, huh?” he joked, winking at his little brother before tugging at the sleeve of Sam’s coat, biting his bottom lip and looking like a freaking virgin about to ask to be fucked or something.

“Yeah. They better learn to stay away from us. And mostly you,” Sam said in a low, deep voice as he stepped closer to his brother, pushing their bodies flush against each other. “In this prison, I own you, Dean.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that, and immediately felt the surge of panic as soon as the words left his mouth, because that really didn’t sound like pretend. He opened his mouth to say some kind of excuse, but froze as Dean pulled his face closer, until only inches separated their face. “I know,” Dean whispered, his lips ghosting over Sam’s, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss his brother, and to pour all of his feelings, his unconditional love into it. And he nearly did, as they looked into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air, so many unsaid words hanging in the air, the tension building until Sam didn’t care anymore, couldn’t care, and he took Dean’s face in his hands and-

“Well look at that, if it isn’t our odd couple having a moment over here,” Diablo laughed, banging on the fence to draw the hunters’ attention. Sam had to try his hardest not to either throw a tantrum right there and then, or let out a rage filled growl and fucking pounce on the man, because there was no way that he could have picked a worse moment to show up. He must have looked exactly how he felt too, because as he glared at the man, Diablo’s smirk turned into an ear to ear grin, all proud of himself and shit.

“Can’t believe it,” he heard Dean mumble so quietly that he nearly missed it, and the amount of irritation and annoyance in his voice made Sam smile. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, and Dean was…

Was he pouting?

Noticing that Sam was staring at him, Dean quickly stopped sulking like an 8 year old who just got his candy stolen and pulled away from his little brother, however he immediately took a hold of Sam’s hand, holding it discreetly behind his back, and making the younger hunter wonder how on earth could Dean Winchester, the man monsters told horror stories about in Purgatory, be so damn adorable.

“Diablo,” Sam spat, hoping that one day, looks could kill, because he really wanted to glare the man to death right about then. “What do you want?”

“Oh, was I disturbing you or something? My bad,” he grinned, his followers exchanging glances and laughing as if the man has said something hilarious. “Didn’t want to bother you while you’re fucking your slut.”

“What did you say?” Sam snapped, clenching his fists as he took a step towards the man. Diablo scoffed, laughing in the hunter’s face as he nodded towards Dean.

“Him. Ain’t he your little slut? Bet he loves being fucked by you, the fucking whore,” he licked his lips, winking at Dean, who bared his teeth at him, before Diablo closed the distance between him and Sam, trying to stare the hunter down. “What, don’t like it when I talk bad about your toy?” he whispered, leaning close while that smug grin never left his face.

Sam could feel the same kind of anger boiling in him as when he saw Dean with those men in the showers, and he flared his nostrils, glaring at Diablo, waiting, waiting, before he just couldn’t take that self-satisfied smile anymore, and he grabbed the man by his coat, then hurled him against the fence.

“You dare…say another word, and you’re dead, hear me?” Sam growled, practically trembling from anger. “I. Will. End. You.”

And for a moment, Diablo actually seemed frightened, probably never seeing someone so pent up and angry, with such hatred in his eyes and murderous intent that was aimed at him, but that look of terror was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by mockery and amusement. “Oh really?” Diablo smirked, raising his chin and licking his teeth as he opened his mouth, then spat into Sam’s face. “Fucking try me, pussy.”

When the Trickster killed Dean over and over again, Sam was angry. When Lilith used her Hellhound to rip his big brother’s chest to shreds in front of him, he felt rage. And now, the feeling that overwhelmed him was something else, as if short circuiting his brain and there was only one thought left, one word.

Kill.

Sam growled, pulling his fist back so quickly that Diablo never even saw the punch coming. He hit him square in his face, the loud crack indicating a broken nose, then raised his knee and kicked him in his stomach. At that point, the man must have come back to his senses, and grabbed the hunter’s hair, pulling Sam away from him. He then lunged at Sam and threw several punches, most of them missing as the hunter ducked and blocked and sometimes caught his fist in mid-punch and pushed it away, though some of them connected, solid hits in the hunter’s chest, jaw and stomach. But he never doubled over, adrenalin overwriting pain, as he grabbed Diablo’s head and yanked, bringing it down to his raised knee and hitting him straight in the forehead.

All the while, the other prisoners cheered and clapped, while staying well away from the wild animals that were trying to tear each other’s throat out. Dean was shouting something, probably either asking Sam to stop or to kill the fucker, but Sam couldn’t hear him, not over the inmates’ yells and his own heartbeat in his ears.

At some point, he found himself on the floor, being stomped, and he let out a pained grunt when the man stomped on his ankle and shin, however he quickly grabbed a large amount of dirt from the ground, and threw it in Diablo’s face. It was time to play dirty. He stumbled to his feet and took a hold of the man’s arms, feeling his own muscles strain as he pulled his arms behind his back, then shoved him against the fence one, two, three and four times, before grabbing his hair and kicking his legs out from under him and, using the momentum of the fall, he brutally bashed the man’s face into the ground. He flashed a bloody smile as he heard the other groaning in pain, but his smile quickly turned into a snarl when Diablo lashed out and kicked Sam in the same fucking shin. He cursed, kicking the man in his stomach and ribs over and over again, knowing that kicking a man down was pretty low, but he just didn’t give a shit, not at that moment. Diablo fucking deserved everything he got. Though he knew that he must have crossed a line when correctional officers burst through the door and emerged from behind the swarm of prisoners surrounding them, grabbing Sam and shoving him to the ground next to Diablo, the fucker smiling as he coughed up blood.

“Nobody fucking move!” one of the guards, judging from his voice the Spitter guy, shouted, and after looking around and identifying the situation, nodded to Diablo. “Get this son of a bitch a medic. And this one…” he trailed off, glaring at Sam, who glared right back at the guy. “Put this one in the basement.”

*

Leo warned him about the basement. Sam remembered him telling him to stay well away from the stairs leading down there. And as he was shoved forward, forced to walk down on those steps, he was beginning to understand why.

The place was like something straight out of a horror movie. He’s seen haunted houses, real ones, watched horror movies and even been to insane asylums, but this place was like a mix of these three, just worse. Suddenly, he remembered all those years he spent suffering and realized why it seemed so familiar.

Damn place looked like Hell.

At the end of the stairs, there was a long, dark tunnel, only illuminated by the few naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Screams and cries echoed through the tunnel, reminding him of the thousands of souls that were being tortured in Hell. On each side of the tunnel, there were half oval doors, grey and rusty, though from what Sam could see, there were only about 8 of them, four on each side. His hands were cuffed behind his back and they even put a chain around his neck, something that was just too much from his opinion. They kept pushing him forward, and Sam managed to get a good look at the doors now that he got closer. They were big, much bigger than him, with many locks, most of them manual with bolts and latches. And none of the doors had any openings, no small windows, just an air went, or at least something that looked like one, at the bottom of the door.

They stopped abruptly at one of the doors, a guard stepping forward and opening the several locks on it before opening it. The foul odor hit him first, reminding him of those bodies they found under the mausoleum. He really hoped that he wasn’t going to find any bones at the corner of the room. With a violent shove, the officers pushed Sam inside his new room, one of them following him inside and fastening the end of the chain that was around Sam’s neck to a small, round object on the far wall, while another uncuffed his hands. Great, so now he was a dog on a leash. The officers shot a glare at Sam, who decided to avert his eyes and looked around the room instead, then walked out of the room and one of them said, “Make yourself at home, inmate. You’ll be staying here for the next week.”

He blinked. One whole week? Sam couldn’t do it, he couldn’t just sit here and leave Dean out there for seven days! “Nononono…” he mumbled, punching the wall and grunting in pain as his already sore and bloody knuckles connected with the concrete. He really shouldn’t have lost his mind like that back then, nearly fucking beating Diablo to death. Sam was so angry, it was hard to think rationally then, so hulking out only seemed natural but now, now that the adrenaline left him and he was in his right mind again, he cursed himself. Beating the shit out of Diablo felt great, and he didn’t regret doing it, not after what he called Dean. But he should have stopped, probably when the man was lying on the ground, coughing his lungs out and, instead of kicking him, Sam should have just grabbed his brother and left. But no, his mind was so clouded with rage that he didn’t hear Dean’s yells, now remembering that his brother was trying to calm him down. Yeah, he should have just listened to Dean and then he wouldn’t be in here now, rotting in a room that had a hole in the floor and a repulsive looking mattress too close to it. Oh, and he was also chained, by his damn neck. Though honestly, he didn’t give a flying crap about himself, he could hole out in this place for a week. No, what he was really, truly fucking worried about was Dean. With Sam gone, who was going to protect him? Not like Dean Winchester couldn’t protect himself, but it was different here. He could hold his own in a fight, when it came to monsters and demons, angels or even psycho lunatics, but getting ganged up on, ten to one, that was something even Dean couldn’t manage, not without a weapon in his hands. Alone and vulnerable, even with the help of Leo and his friends, Dean was screwed.

And Sam hoped, like never before, that that expression wasn’t going to become literal.

*

He didn’t, couldn’t really keep track of days. It was always dark, and he could barely even see the food they gave him, if it could have even be called food, in the first place. That alien thing that he got here made him actually miss that mystery spinach he got on the first day. Having a moment of silence for the spinach, he reluctantly ate whatever was on his plate, hoping that it wasn’t a dead rat they’ve found in the sewers or something, because it sure as hell tasted like that.

He guessed that he’s been down here for around five or six days, which meant that he’d be soon getting out of here, thank god. Talking about god, Sam has been praying every night, or more like, every time before he went to sleep. He prayed not to God, but to his friend, Castiel. And he told him everything. As if this room was a confession booth, he poured his soul and heart out in every prayer, gradually telling Cas everything that has been happening to him and to his brother. He started from when the police caught them, and told him what happened on the first day, told him about Diablo and even about his feelings for Dean. At first, he was hesitant about it, but after a few days, he decided to just open up. Castiel was his friend after all and, from what he heard while Cas was playing God, the angel wasn’t exactly the judging type. So he told him, how they had to pretend that they were lovers in order to survive, and how that made Sam realize that he was enjoying the little touches a bit too much. At one point, he even had to stop himself from talking, because he noticed that he must have spoken for an hour straight, about how Dean was the best thing that has ever happened to him, describing how amazing and beautiful his brother really was, and so on. Castiel, if he was listening, must have thought that Sam was a big girl right then.

Anyway, Sam was kneeling on his mattress, because he didn’t want to risk any suspicious things getting stuck to his clothes by kneeling on the floor, and closed his eyes, about to start praying to his friend again, when he heard the locks being opened. The sudden loud noise made him jump, and he turned around, watching in surprise as three guards entered his room, one of them going to the ring Sam’s chain was attached to, while the other two hurled the hunter to his feet. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, surprised by his own voice. Damn, was his voice hoarse.

“Time’s up, chap. You stayed your one week, it’s time for you to get your ass outta here. That is, if you don’t wanna stay a few more weeks, eh?” one of the guards laughed as he pulled Sam out of the room, wrinkling his nose in disgust as his smell hit him. “Aw dude, you stink! If I were you, I’d take a shower, first thing I get upstairs.”

Sam thought that was a pretty good idea and kept that in mind as they escorted, or more like pushed, him to the stairs, since walking was still a bit difficult after only kneeling and standing in the small room for a week. One of the guards went forward, opening the door as Sam walked up the stairs and he had to raise his hand in front of his eyes. The basement was so dark, his room even darker, that the sudden light nearly blinded him. Without another word, the guards disappeared as they went back down the stairs, leaving Sam alone.

“Finally…” Sam sighed, looking around and couldn’t help but smile when he noticed how the inmates looked at him. They seemed scared, backing away or turning around abruptly and quickly walking to the other direction, while others whispered and nodded at and to him. Guess getting locked up in the dungeon cells earned him some more respect from the other prisoners.

He immediately headed towards the A block, the shower could wait. Sam had to find his brother first, that was top priority. Though instead of Dean, he first ran into Leo, who was talking to Tony, all smiles and laughs, and when he noticed Sam, his smile quickly grew into a wide grin. “Sam, dude!” he laughed, raising his hand for a high five and, after a moment of hesitation, Sam raised his too and high fived the man. “How was it?” Leo asked, suddenly turning serious and watching Sam with curious eyes.

“Horrible, just like you said. Leo, where’s Dean?” Sam asked, not really having time to deal with his friends right now. And as he watched Leo’s face twist into something that looked suspiciously like worry, Sam knew he wasn’t going to like his answer. “Leo?”

“Look, he’s in his cell, okay? I mean, last time I saw him, he was there,” he sighed, scratching at his neck. “These past couple of days have been pretty rough, you know? Most of the guys stayed away from him because of you, but there were some…persistent ones. Nothing he couldn’t handle, I can tell you that, but he’s been pretty down in the gutter and refused to leave his cell, even though I told him he’d be safer with us.”

“Dammit Dean,” Sam shook his head, muttering a quick thanks to Leo before heading to Dean’s cell. It was just like his brother to refuse help and white knuckle through the whole week, as if he had to prove something to Sam. Stupid, stubborn big brother.

Finally reaching his cell, Sam noticed two things at the same time. One, Dean was indeed there and two, a big guy was totally trying to hit on him. Sam was seriously starting to have enough of this and before walking over to them, he grabbed a hardcover book out of one of the prisoners’ hands.

“Hey!” Sam shouted and, as the guy turned around, he whacked him straight in the face with the sharp edge of the book, then grabbed him by his collar and shoved him against the bars. “Get lost.”

The man nodded jerkily, the realization of who Sam was visible on his face and he was gone rather quickly, leaving Sam and Dean alone in the cell. Well, aside from Snorlax, but he seemed to be asleep, as always, so he didn’t count.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, taking a step towards his brother and looking like he was about to freaking break down in tears, before grabbing him and pulling him into one of the tightest hugs he’s ever gotten, but also the best one so far.

“Yeah, I’m back Dean,” Sam reassured, softly stroking his brother’s back as he returned the hug, smiling when he felt Dean bury his face in his neck, a thing he started doing ever since they began acting as lovers. “You okay?” he asked, worried that maybe he was too late, that maybe one of the guys got to Dean and-

“I’m fine, don’t worry, nobody…touched me, Sam. Nobody,” he breathed against Sam’s skin, gripping the back of his little brother’s shirt as if his life depended on it. However, he soon pulled back and started coughing, his face twisted in disgust. “Oh god, man, you smell like something died in your pants!”

“Well, I couldn’t take a shower for a week, so yeah. But I can assure you, everything is fine in my pants, thank you very much,” he winked, and Dean laughed, finally looking like he was in a good mood.

“Well then let’s get you cleaned up, because I swear I ain’t touching you until you get that huge frame of yours clean,” Dean grinned, tugging his little brother towards the showers, making Sam realize just how fucking much he missed his brother. Really, it was ridiculous, how much he loved Dean. He was surprised it took him so long to realize.

“So, you gonna join me?” he asked when they reached the locker room, only a few people being inside around this time.

“What, join you in the shower? Yeah, you wish,” Dean joked, pushing Sam into the C block lockers, then stopped in front of him. “You need help peeling those sticky clothes off you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking like a damn hyena.

Sam laughed lightly and shook his head, gently pushing Dean away. “No, I wouldn’t want you to catch something nasty from these clothes.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ve already got some germs all over me when I hugged you, little brother.”

“Dean, if you want to undress me that bad, then go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

That finally made his brother stop, licking his lips nervously as he took a step back and even turned away, for good measure. “Whatever, just hurry up and undress.”

“Impatient much?” Sam laughed and began taking his clothes off, starting with his shirt then pants, honestly surprised that his clothes still looked fine. He thought they would not only stink but also be covered with pretty much everything the dictionary described as disgusting. Anyway, Sam took his clothes off and folded them into a pile, then grabbed Dean’s towel and walked towards the shower. The water was lukewarm, but he knew that it would quickly turn to chilly, so he tried to hurry up, even though he would have much rather taken his time instead, noticing that Dean followed him and was, pretty indiscreetly, staring at his naked body. Not sneaking glances, but straight-out staring. That gave Sam an idea, and he made sure to run his soapy hands down his chest real slowly, then lower, and lower, until he reached his already hardening dick and, just before taking a hold of it, he looked at Dean. His brother was caught off guard in the middle of staring a hole in Sam’s dick, and when he finally noticed that Sam was looking at him and fucking grinning, he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat and doing his best at trying to pretend he was fascinated by the dirty tiles on the wall.

Sam laughed, couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh, as he quickly finished washing the soap off his body, and dried himself with the towel, wrapping it once again around his waist before walking back to the lockers. He pulled a face when he had to put his old clothes back on, reminding himself that he needed to wash them, ASAP. “So, nice and clean?” he heard his brother ask, Dean smirking at him as he leaned sideways against the locker.

“Yup, I’m all shiny,” he winked, drawing a chuckle out of his brother before they both walked out of the locker room.

“Hey,” Dean broke the silence, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I, uh, found an empty room. Some kind of empty storage unit that isn’t checked only once a week, and Leo told me that the guards already checked it the day before yesterday, so…”

“Cas?” Sam asked, knowing where Dean was going with his suggestion.

“Yeah. We could try and call him there, where it’s nice and secluded. Hope he’ll answer this time,” he said, nodding at the D block hallway. “C’mon, let me show you.”

Sam nodded and followed his brother to the storage unit, all the while glancing around and making sure that nobody was watching or following them. Finally, Dean stopped before a door and pulled a bobby pin out from his pocket, Sam raising his eyebrows questioningly, but Dean just shrugged.

“I got it for a pack of cigarettes. When in Rome…” he grinned, picking the lock while Sam watched his back, then cheered when he heard the telltale click of a lock opening. He quickly opened the door and disappeared inside, Sam following his brother before closing the door behind them.

The storage unit didn’t look like much, just what a person would expect. A few boxes here, some bottles there and tools on shelves. Nothing real special. “Okay,” Sam walked to the center of the room, looking around. “So, how do we do this? Wanna start, or should we talk at the same time?”

“I dunno,” Dean sighed, chewing at his lower lip and looking oddly like someone who just robbed a bank and was stuck in a room full of cops. In other words, seriously nervous.

“Dean?” Sam frowned, starting to get a little worried. He stepped closer to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, you okay?”

His brother stayed silent for a moment, staring at the floor, before he finally looked up, and the look in his eyes was something new, something Sam has never seen. Dean swallowed visibly, glancing at the hand that was on his shoulder before he started to slowly back his little brother into the wall, then kept on moving until their bodies were flush against each other and they were pretty much breathing the same air.

“Dean,” Sam whispered for some reason, watching his brother with slightly wide eyes. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean raised an eyebrow, slipping his hand under Sam’s shirt and resting it on his chest.

“Uh, yeah, but there’s no one here. No need to…you know,” Sam clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to control himself, which wasn’t the easiest thing with his big brother pressing against him.

Dean licked his lips, leaning closer to Sam, his lips barely an inch away from his little brother’s as he said, “I know.”

Sam watched in shock as his big brother slowly sank to his knees and tugged his pants down, all the while keeping eye-contact with Sam. He couldn’t speak, somehow that ability left him as Dean took a hold of his raging hard on, and when did that happen, then started slowly stroking him.

“Fuck,” Sam cursed, while Dean placed soft kisses on his thighs, still watching him intently. Sam couldn’t believe this, that his brother was actually touching him like that, even though nobody was watching. He tried to keep his voice in, he really did, but between Dean’s strokes, light nips and the kisses he placed on his thighs and abdomen, he soon found himself unable to stop himself from groaning. “Dean,” he breathed, closing his eyes as he let his mind go blank and focused on Dean’s hand, but was soon startled, nearly jumping out of his skin as he felt something much, much warmer and wet around his dick. Looking down, his eyes widened as he saw Dean take him in his mouth, moaning and still, never breaking eye contact.

Sam gasped, throwing his head back and, even though now he couldn’t see Dean, he certainly could hear him and the obscene slurping sounds he made while sucking Sam off. He moaned, seemingly having the time of his life as he hummed contently around Sam’s dick while bobbing his head back and forth, taking him in inch by inch, and then he was gagging, fucking choking on Sam’s huge, thick dick but still, he kept going, and that had Sam groaning like crazy. He moved a hand to his brother’s head, gripping his hair as he found the power to open his eyes and look back down at Dean and, holy shit, the sight that welcomed him was out of this world. His big brother’s gorgeous, plump lips looked beautiful around his dick, as they slid forward, then back, taking as much as he could in his mouth and apparently enjoying his little brother’s taste, judging from the way he kept on moaning uncontrollably. Probably sensing Sam’s stare, Dean looked up and smiled around his brother’s dick, letting out an especially lewd moan as he took even more of Sam in, quickening his pace and swirling his tongue around the fat shaft of his brother’s dick, making Sam buck his hips.

“Dean, fuck, shit,” he gasped, tightening his grip on his brother hair as Dean just kept sucking him, sometimes grazing his teeth against his shaft, which sent lightning-like shivers down his spine. Dean hummed eagerly, pulling back so that only the head was inside his mouth, and he ran his tongue along the underside of the head of Sam’s cock, earning a loud moan from his brother. It was all so much, and Sam soon found himself unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips forward, trying to fuck his big brother’s mouth while he tugged on his hair, making him move the way he liked and wanted it, choosing the pace and rhythm.

But then, Dean pulled away with a wet pop, licking his lips hungrily as he grinned darkly, standing up and again, pressing up against Sam. “Want you, baby boy,” he whispered, licking Sam’s lips tentatively. “Make me yours, Sammy, please,” Dean begged, seeming so fucking desperate that Sam quickly found himself crushing his lips against his own brother’s, licking and sucking and biting and kissing him passionately and hotly. His tongue breached the man’s mouth, licking into the warm and wet cavern of Dean’s mouth and successfully drawing a moan out of his brother. Deciding that he loved that sound, Sam gently bit down Dean’s bottom lip and made him moan, yet again, then sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and pulled Dean closer.

“Fuck, Dean, is this okay with you?” Sam asked after pulling back from the kiss, lightly caressing his brother’s cheek as he looked into his eyes, those mesmerizing green eyes.

“Yes, please, Sammy, please,” Dean pleaded, placing kisses after kisses on his little brother’s lips, making Sam simply lose his mind and grab Dean’s pants, tugging at them and just fucking wanting them _off_. “Shit, Sammy,” he groaned, quickly pulling and kicking his pants and underwear off, kissing his little brother’s jaw, then neck and finally shoulder, all the while roaming Sam’s body with his hands, and rubbing their hard cocks against each other.

“Dean, oh god,” Sam groaned, moving his hands down and grabbing his brother’s ass, making Dean moan and push his hips out immediately. “Wall, now,” Sam growled, kicking his own pants off as he positioned Dean against the wall, so his back was facing Sam and, holy shit, Dean had such a fucking gorgeous, round, amazing ass. Sam found himself staring at it until he couldn’t help but groan, glancing down at his raging boner and deciding that it was probably time to claim his big brother, once and for all. He licked his lips, running his hand down Dean’s back before moving his free hand to Dean’s mouth, then pressed two fingers against his lips. “Wet them for me, Dean.”

And he did, his big brother slowly opening his mouth and sucking on his fingers as if they were his dick, coating them with saliva, before Sam pulled them out and moved them to his brother’s ass. Dean gasped, and let out a quiet whimper, pushing his ass out and resting his forehead against the wall. “Sammy, dammit, hurry up. Want you so bad,” he whined, breathing hard and making Sam real eager. But still, no matter how horny he was, Sam wasn’t going to risk hurting his brother, so he gently rubbed a finger against Dean’s entrance before slowly pushing it inside, earning a pleased groan from his big brother. “Fuck, yeah, Sammy, more,” he moaned, slightly wiggling his hips and trying to push back on Sam’s finger. Cursing in his head, Sam began to move his finger and prayed for whomever that was listening to help him keep his self-control. He fingered his brother slowly, then when he was sure that Dean was ready, Sam inserted his second finger, beginning to scissor and stretch his brother’s hole as much as he could. “Sammy!” Dean whined, clearly starting to become impatient as he kept on pushing back on his little brother’s fingers and trying to fuck himself on them. That was Sam’s cue, knowing that Dean needed much more than just his fingers, and he carefully pulled them out before spitting in his palm and slicked his dick up, hoping that he wasn’t going to hurt Dean.

“You ready?” he asked, wanting to, needing to know that Dean wanted this just as much as Sam did.

“Yeah, shit, Sammy, fuck me already,” Dean begged, panting heavily, and Sam was more than willing to obey. He took a hold of Dean’s hips with one hand, and lined his rock hard cock up with his big brother’s hole, before entering him. And fuck, if it wasn’t the greatest feeling ever. Dean was so warm and fucking tight, immediately drawing a moan out of Sam as soon as the head of his dick slid past the tight ring of muscle.

“Oh god, Dean, so fucking good,” Sam groaned, digging his fingers in his brother’s hips as he pushed further inside, making Dean let out the sweetest gasps and moans, that went straight to his dick. “Dean, gonna fuck you so hard,” he found himself growling, leaning forward and biting Dean’s shoulder, drawing a loud, desperate moan out of his brother.

“Do it, please, Sammy, fuck me, yes please!” he whimpered, clenching his fists against the wall and pushing his ass even further out, looking way too desperate.

“Never knew you were such a cockslut, Dean,” Sam purred, letting out a deep chuckle as he licked up Dean’s neck, making the man shudder.

“You, just for you, Sammy,” Dean breathed, whining and whimpering as he clenched around Sam’s fat dick. “Now fuck me already, or I’m gonna use your cock to fuck myself,” he growled, sounding annoyed.

The idea of Dean desperately trying to fuck himself on Sam’s cock may have been what made him snap, and Sam finally started moving, slowly, in and out of his big brother who let out drawn out moans like a cat in heat, each time Sam pulled out until just the head remained inside, then slammed back in, punching the air out of his big brother. “Fuck, Dean,” Sam gasped, resting his forehead against the back of Dean’s neck as he moved in and out, thrusting in a quicker pace now and fucking his brother fiercely, who was moaning loudly, even though he must have been trying to keep his voice in, obviously failing.

“Sam, Sammy, harder, more!” Dean cried, pushing back and meeting Sam’s thrusts each and every time, as Sam kissed and bit into his shoulder, marking him while trying to muffle his own groans and moans. His hands stayed on Dean’s hips, though after a while Sam decided to move one of them up Dean’s chest and when his nail grazed his brother’s nipple, making him arch his back, Sam knew he found the jackpot. Still keeping one hand on Dean’s hips, Sam lightly rubbed his big brother’s nipple all the while fucking his pretty pink hole, earning a high pitched mix of a gasp and a moan from Dean, so he kept going, pinching and tugging at the hard bud. Dean was soon a moaning and whimpering mess under his touch, then at one especially deep thrust, he screamed so loudly that Sam was pretty sure that the whole prison heard him. “There, right fucking there, do that again, please!” Dean pleaded, even helping out by moving one of his hands back and spreading his cheek for Sam’s dick. He was sure that he hit Dean’s prostate with that thrust, and fortunately, he kind of remembered where it was, so he angled his thrust and Dean’s hips so that he could hit that spot over, and over, and over again.

Dean threw his head back and cried out in pleasure, keening and whimpering and whining and moaning lewdly as Sam fucked him, his little brother leaving hickeys all over his neck, shoulders and back, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. He soon moved his hand down from Dean’s over-sensitive nipple to his bouncing cock, and grabbed it, pumping it quickly and in rhythm with his own thrusts until Dean was chanting his name like a prayer. Then, Dean tensed, letting out one of his loudest moans as he shuddered, and came all over the wall and Sam’s fingers. The younger hunter felt his brother’s insides clench and flutter around his pulsing cock, and it only took him a few, quite erratic, thrusts before he too, was coming, deep inside his brother who was milking him through his orgasm, until Sam was spent and panting against Dean’s back.

He placed soft and tender kisses over the bruises he made on Dean’s shoulders as his brother shivered, suddenly feeling weak and he nearly fell to the ground, his knees giving out, but Sam quickly caught him and gently lowered him, following his big brother to the floor. He changed their position, so that Sam was sitting against the wall and Dean was in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and, as always, face buried in his little brother’s neck, nuzzling him affectionately which made Sam smile weakly. He cradled his big brother, gently stroking the back of his head, and placing small kisses on it, while Dean was relaxing in his brother’s embrace.

They stayed like that for a long while, none of them wanting and daring to say a thing, until Sam decided to break the silence. “Dean,” he started, clearing his throat and moving his hand to his brother’s chin, raising it so that they were looking at each other. “I understand, if you don’t want to talk about this-“

“Shut up,” Dean cut him off, then quickly kissed his lips, smiling happily as he looked into the surprised hazel eyes of his little brother. “I’m only going to say this once, so you better remember this…I love you, in a way only I can,” he sighed, hiding his probably flushed face in his favorite place, Sam’s neck.

Sam blinked, then couldn’t help but laugh, wondering how on earth could he be so damn lucky, that his feelings were actually returned by his big brother, and he whispered, “I love you too, Dean.”

He felt Dean smile against his skin, placing a quick kiss on his neck before looking up, and yes, his eyes only had love in them. “Love you so much,” Sam said again, pulling Dean closer and smiling happily against his lips, closing his eyes as Dean laughed.

“We’re so fucked up, man,” he whispered, sighing lightly before pressing a lingering kiss on Sam’s lips, which soon turned into a deep kiss, with tongues sliding against each other and muffled moans, until a deep voice made them abruptly pull away.

“I assume this isn’t the right time to talk,” Castiel said, narrowing his eyes as he looked from one hunter to the other.

“Oh shit,” Dean cursed, quickly grabbing their clothes and covering himself and Sam with them. “Seriously? _Now_ you show up?”

“I could come back later, I guess, but I’m rather…busy, at the moment. I can’t stay here for long, or else Naomi’s soldiers might find me,” the angel sighed, glancing at Sam. “I see you finally acted on your emotions, Sam,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

Feeling a blush creep up his face, Sam averted his gaze from the angel and his brother, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Feelings? What is he talking about?”

When none of them answered, Castiel obviously waiting for Sam to say something, while the hunter hoped that their angel friend would be kind enough to enlighten Dean instead of him, Sam realized that he should probably be the one doing the talking after all. So he sighed, biting his lower lip as he looked his brother in the eyes. “I, uh, may have prayed to Cas and told him that…I was in love with you.”

“What?” Dean asked, blinking repeatedly with a shocked expression on his face that wasn’t supposed to be adorable but, damn, it was. “You just freakin’ told your feelings to Cas like that? Jeez Sam, talking about desperate…”

“Hey, I thought that we’d never, you know, have sex anyway, that all of this was pretend, and that Cas wasn’t listening!”

“I was,” Castiel nodded, clarifying the situation. ”Listening, that is. It just took me some time to actually find the right moment to get to you.”

“Yeah, and you did a real great job at that, Cas,” Dean sighed, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “And Sam, seriously? My attempts on seducing the shit out of you didn’t get through, or what?”

“Oh,” was all he said, blinking and suddenly feeling a bit stupid. Now that he thought about it, Dean would have never initiated the touches and would have never looked like he was actually enjoying them, unless he was, and had the thought of seducing Sam in mind. “Um, sorry, I didn’t…realize.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean rolled his eyes, then smirked, kissing Sam’s chin. “Maybe I should be more straightforward from now on, huh?” he laughed, hugging Sam in a way that totally didn’t look like cuddling.

“Hm, maybe,” Sam smiled happily, placing a small kiss on Dean’s forehead before looking at Castiel and trying to stand up, a quite difficult task when Dean was still clinging to him like an overly attached monkey. “Uh, Cas, could you zap us out of here, then?” he asked, grabbing his dirty pants to cover his dick.

“Yes,” he nodded, looking sort of relieved as he walked to the brothers and placed his fingers on their forehead and, suddenly, they were in the bunker. “Will this suffice?” the angel asked, glancing around the bunker and smiling a little. “Nice place.”

“Yeah, we’re legacies,” Dean grinned, holding his clothes against his crotch. “Well, uh Cas, thanks for the lift,” he said, but before he could have said anything else, the angel nodded and was gone. Blinking and shrugging, he turned towards Sam and smirked. “So…”

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, returning his brother’s smirk as he could feel his face flush. “Do you want to talk about this or-“

“Hell no. There’s nothing to talk about here, Sammy. I… _we_ love each other in a way that is really, very fucked up and more than brotherly, but our life is already a big shit storm, so I don’t mind. Why don’t we just, you know. Roll with it.”

“Roll with it?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean, start a relationship?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat and nodded, fighting to keep eye contact with Sam. “Yeah. I think we deserve that, don’t you?”

Smiling, Sam nodded and raised his hand to his big brother’s face, lightly caressing his cheek with his thumb. “Yes.”

And Dean grinned, looking happier than Sam has seen him in years, as he wrapped his arms around his little brother’s neck and kissed his lips. “Well then,” he whispered, smiling against his lover’s soft lips. “Why don’t we make up for all that lost time?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and making Sam laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Sam returned the kiss, taking Dean’s hand in his and taking him to his bedroom, which soon became their shared bedroom, just like the bunker became their home, their safe nest where they could relax and forget about all their troubles.

Where they could love each other, forever and unconditionally, until Death did them apart.

And even after that, either in Heaven or Hell, or wherever they ended up.

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Another Kind of J2 = For those who didn't get it, J2 here meant John Johnson.


End file.
